©2025

Joshua Dalzelle

Digital Edition

Copyright © 2025 by Joshua Dalzelle

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PROLOGUE

Admiral Marcus Webb watched as Koliss-2 grew to fill the entire view from his office as the UES Kentucky slid gracefully into orbit.

The ship was pristine. Not a mark on her. Despite that, Webb still felt like he was returning from a war…a war he wasn’t sure he won. The mission had been both a spectacular success and an abysmal failure. Captain Brown and his crew, now dubbed Kill Team Blackheart, had successfully run the Viper to ground and neutralized her. It had come at significant cost, however, as Alonso “Murph” Murphy would never walk again under his own power and Gunnery Sergeant Jeff Mettler was still recovering from his injuries.

Jacob’s fight with Carolyn Whitney left him severely injured, yet his enhanced healing factor enabled him to walk by the time their flight from Diwa Station to Eshquaria ended. In the end, Jacob hadn’t the heart to kill Whitney.

But he could have.

Against all odds, Jacob had beaten the cybernetic assassin in one-on-one combat. He’d fully embraced his genetic gifts for the first time and, with his rage-fueled strength, had bested the Viper, but when the time came to finish her, his principles wouldn’t let him. Even in the middle of a life or death struggle, he had the moral clarity to have mercy when necessary. Marcus Webb had never been prouder. In that moment, Jacob had proven he was worthy of the power he had inherited from his father.

In the end, they had let Whitney go. She was no longer a threat and, after over a hundred years of being used against her will as an assassin, they hoped she could find some measure of peace. To appease Olympus, they offered the remains of a decoy, assuring Fleet R&D that these were Carolyn Whitney’s remains.

They would analyze the counterfeit cybernetic components, reach no conclusion why the Viper was so effective, and drop the whole thing. In the meantime, the real Viper, now free of her compulsion to kill and sporting a new face, would hopefully live a quiet retirement in some human colony on the frontier.

“We’re not quite there, sir, but we can have the Admiral’s Launch take you down to your home while the Kentucky maneuvers into her parking orbit.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Webb said to his aide, Commander Reginald Weathers. “Please, inform the launch I am on my way.”

The Admiral’s Launch, which doubled as the Captain’s Launch when Webb wasn’t aboard, was tucked away in a small, secure hangar two decks below the bridge. The shuttle was luxurious by Navy standards, outfitted with soft seats, a proper head, and even a small wet bar. Unlike most shuttles, it was equipped with a slip-drive.

“Weather over Mosler Station is calm and cool, Admiral,” the pilot said in greeting as Webb walked up the ramp. “We’ll have a nice, smooth flight all the way down and drop you off right on your doorstep.”

“I’m going to miss this type of service when they retire me, Captain,” Webb told the pilot. “You may depart when ready. It’s only going to be me today.”

“Of course, sir.”

True to the pilot’s word, the ride down from the Kentucky was uneventful. He watched out the window as the rolling hills of Koliss-2’s Etheas region rolled by as the shuttle continued northerly toward the base. Webb would miss this world, but he knew his days were numbered. Fleet Admiral Grant would return to Olympus and begin laying the groundwork to have Scout Fleet rolled in under the umbrella of Central Command. Webb would be replaced with someone less likely to create waves, and Scout Fleet would become something else altogether.

But his mind didn’t dwell on his own career. It would be ending soon regardless of politics. It was concern and fear for someone he almost saw as a son that kept him awake at night. Olympus had discovered what he was: a genetic augment. The modified DNA that was passed on from Jason Burke had given his son strength, endurance, resiliency, and an overall toughness that was well apart from any normal human.

It was something that the eggheads at Central Command wanted badly. He would be the cornerstone of Earth’s latest super soldier program, and Webb highly doubted that included letting the test subject roam untethered as a free man.

After Admiral Grant confirmed he’d been visiting Mosler Station specifically to give Captain Brown a test drive by sending him after the Viper, Webb had ordered Jacob to stay clear of any Earth-controlled worlds. He would keep the Blackheart team leader in the wind with his battlesynth companion. If Olympus came for him? He would order Jacob to disappear and never return.

“Five minutes, sir. We’re about to break into Mosler Station airspace.”

Webb didn’t acknowledge the intercom call from the flightdeck. He just stared pensively out the window, wondering if he was doing the right thing. The shuttle overflew the base, and he idly noticed some of the uniformed personnel stopped what they were doing and saluted the shuttle as it flew over. He smiled. There were things he would miss about the military and the sense of family and purpose would certainly be one of them.

The shuttle flared, its nose pulling up and touching down on the decorative crushed gravel pad behind the base commander’s home. Webb nodded to his flight crew and disembarked, putting on his cover and holding it in place as the shuttle’s engines wound up and the pilot lifted off and quickly cleared the area. Webb watched as it flew toward the operations center where it would stay in case he needed to return to the Kentucky.

“Home sweet home,” Webb sighed, noting absently that the house was dark. Shouldn’t the lights have been on and the home ready to receive him?

When he entered the home, the lights still didn’t turn on. Aggravated at what he assumed was a malfunction, he crossed through the rear-entry foyer and into the kitchen area where someone was sitting on a barstool, a single light shining down on them.

“Who the hell are you?” Webb demanded.

“Well…that is the question, isn’t it?” an eerily familiar voice said back.

Looking at the man who turned to face him, Webb was shocked to see his own reflection. The shock didn’t last long, but age and comfort dulled his instincts and reflexes. He reached for his weapon just as he felt a hypospray fire against his neck.

“Who…damn…you.”

His vision dimmed, and the last thing Webb saw was his own face smiling back at him.

1

“Wow…this really got out of hand, didn’t it?”

“They left us little choice,” Tin Man said. “But yes…there are a lot of bodies strewn about.”

Captain Jacob Brown winced as he realized that what had begun as a simple questioning had turned into a bloodbath. He and the battlesynth, Tin Man, were on Pek-4, lying low as per Admiral Webb’s orders. In the meantime, rather than just sitting around bored, they had followed a lead that Carolyn Whitney had given them to see if they could kick up any useful intel regarding the Cridal situation.

The local had been named Obonoda. He had been the one to find Whitney when she had escaped from the Cridal’s covert cybernetics lab near the starport. He had also been the one to give her bogus information and hired her for a political assassination that could have engulfed the entire Orion Sector in war.

Obonoda had been easy enough to find. What they hadn’t counted on was that he wasn’t just some intelligence asset that had been put on Pek-4. He was part of an entire sleeper cell that had come at them when they’d broken down Obonoda’s door. By the time they’d found and subdued their target, fourteen armed fighters had come at them through the same door.

That had been a tactical error as it had put them in quarters so tight that their numerical advantage was nullified. It also trapped them in the same building as a battlesynth in full combat mode that had already been in a foul mood.

The fight was short.

“Why have you brought death to us?” Obonoda wailed, fighting against the restraints Jacob had slapped on him. “We are simple⁠—”

“Shut up before I shoot you,” Jacob said wearily. “What are you idiots doing out here on Pek-4? There’s no way you have an operation this big just to point the Viper in the wrong direction.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Obonoda insisted. Jacob saw through the act. He saw that his captive was not particularly distressed by the sight of all the bodies stacked up in his living room. “We are refugees on a pilgrimage to⁠—”

“Pek-4 is not a waystation for any of the colonial lines in this region, as far as I know,” Jacob said. He turned to Tin Man. “Did they start routing refugees through here?”

“No,” Tin Man said, his eyes still blazing crimson. “This world’s government forbids it for anything other than dire emergency. And refugees are rarely so well armed or trained to respond to a threat in a moment’s notice.”

“Ah, yes,” Jacob said. “Let’s take a look at what these guys were packing. Pretty fancy weaponry for… Son of a bitch.”

“Did you forget what word you wanted to use again?” Tin Man asked.

“No, wiseass…take a look.” Jacob tossed him one of the bullpup style carbines.

“Human design and manufacturer,” Tin Man said. “But your people are shipping arms throughout the quadrant.”

“Look again. That’s a model that’s not supposed to be available for export,” Jacob said. “Mosler Station can trace it.”

“Where did you get your weaponry?” Tin Man asked. Obonoda’s demeanor changed in an instant. He dropped the scared and confused act, and Jacob got a look at how he really was. The cold, calculating stare. The lack of fear. This was a dangerous person.

“I’d been warned about you,” he said. “I suppose I should have taken it more seriously. I’ve never seen a battlesynth in person before. Quite terrifying. It’s too bad he took out my advance team by himself. I’m curious what a human augment is capable of.”

“Feeling chatty, are we?” Jacob asked.

“Acknowledging the inevitable. I’m a dead man no matter what you decide to do. You can try to torture me, I suppose, but if you’re as smart as you seem, you’ll know that I’m only given enough information to do my job. Those of us who toil in the trenches never get to see the full picture. Isn’t that right?”

“If you tell us who your handler is, we might be inclined to give you a head start,” Tin Man said. “Provide us with intel beyond that, and we could even be convinced to make the scene here impossible to know whether you lived or died.”

Obonoda looked at him speculatively. Jacob was impressed with how quickly Tin Man had picked up on how the game was played. Most battlesynths weren’t subtle. They used their brute strength and near-invulnerability to cause maximum damage without having the patience or inclination for intelligence work.

“A ship?” Obonoda asked.

“For that we’d need your whole organization,” Jacob said. “We’re offering a fighting chance not salvation.”

“What do I get if I happen to mention that there’s a floor safe in the back room?”

“That would depend on whether or not it was rigged with a trap,” Tin Man said.

“Of course, it’s rigged,” Obonoda said. “But if you forced me to disable the locks? It’s not like I could stop you.”

Jacob nodded to Tin Man, who grabbed the prisoner and dragged him into the back room. Obonoda went without complaint, and Jacob took one last look around the room, shaking his head. These guys had been pros, but they’d been unprepared to try and fight a battlesynth in the close quarters of the small dwelling. But who were they? He didn’t recognize their species, and he knew most in the upper and lower Orion Regions.

“We have accessed the safe,” Tin Man called from the back room.

Jacob walked in to see Obonoda unconscious on the floor, blood leaking from his nose. He also saw that the safe had a biometric palm scanner as well as a discreet retinal scanner that most people would have missed if they didn’t know what they were looking at. It wasn’t hard to figure out had happened.

“He try to pull a fast one?”

“The palm scanner is likely connected to a hidden burst transmitter somewhere else in the residence. There were no explosives or other traps.”

“Anything good?” Jacob asked, peeking in and frowned. “That’s it?”

“It is possible they were already preparing to leave this location,” Tin Man said.

Inside the safe was a small cache of credit chits and an odd crystalline disc. It was mounted to a wafer, leading Jacob to believe that it was an electronic component. He held it up for Tin Man to see.

“Know what this is?”

Tin Man took the wafer and held it up. Jacob could see his friend’s eyes flickering as he scanned it in multiple wavelengths and with active sensors. He tilted it at various angles to make sure he captured it as accurately as possible.

“It appears to be a primary processing matrix not dissimilar to my own, albeit this one is significantly smaller,” Tin Man said.

“You’re making that sound like an important fact,” Jason said, taking the wafer back.

“This would most likely be a matrix from the newest generation of synth,” Tin Man said. “The Saba Series Four synths were only brought online two years ago.”

Jacob looked at the device again, now noticing the scratches on the edges as if it had been hastily removed without care. Had this been installed in a synth?

“Is there something we can put this in besides my pocket?” Jacob asked.

After a quick search, they found a black case that looked like it had been made to hold the component. With it now stashed safely in his pocket, Jacob grabbed the weapon he’d lifted off the dead team in the front room and took one last look around. He grimaced and then shot Obonoda in the chest twice.

“Distasteful, but necessary,” Tin Man said. “We will also need to set the dwelling on fire.”

“To hide the evidence or just because you like doing it?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy with me. You’ve had an unwholesome obsession with lighting fires lately.”

“It is an effective and readily available way to cover our tracks,” Tin Man said defensively.

The pair quickly policed the area for any evidence they might have left that could be used to trace who they were and exited out a side door. Tin Man, looking suspiciously eager, deployed his cannons and fired them in an unfocused mode. Instead of a destructive, cohesive blast, they belched out streams of super-heated plasma that immediately set the place ablaze. He stepped back, looking pleased with himself. Jacob just shook his head.

“You sick bastard.”

They ran across the gravel pad the building had been located on and climbed up an embankment to get up onto the only road in that area. Their vehicle was stashed several kilometers away as they had not wanted to alert Obonoda that they were coming.

The secondary response team arrived as they were just shy of a klick to the vehicle. Tin Man heard them first and pulled Jacob into the brush that lined the road in time to see two aircraft streak overhead, slowing dramatically as they neared the flaming ruin they’d left behind.

“They will have likely spotted us on thermals,” Tin Man said.

“Let’s go,” Jacob said, moving back to the road and sprinting as hard as he could for the vehicle. Despite being the faster of the pair, Tin Man maintained a position behind Jacob as they ran. The vehicle had been left on the side of the road and would definitely look out of place. It had almost certainly been spotted from the air, so Jacob slowed as he made the final approach, raising his weapon.

Sure enough, two figures in dark gray body armor were by the boxy, wheeled vehicle. Tin Man fired his repulsors and arced up and ahead of Jacob, drawing the pair’s attention as they tracked his flight. Before they could raise their weapons and fire, Jacob hit one and the other fell as Tin Man opened fire from above.

“We do not have long,” Tin Man said as Jacob ran up.

“This shit box won’t be able to get us away fast enough to lose those aircraft,” Jacob said. “We’re going to have to get creative here.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Find us a place to hide nearby that thermal sensors can’t penetrate,” Jacob said. “I’ll take care of this.”

The wait was longer than Jacob thought it would be. He and Tin Man were dug into the side of a natural drainage ravine for nearly forty minutes before the sound of an approaching aircraft reached his ears. Jacob pressed himself farther back into the soft banking. Just when he thought they would leave without finding his little surprise…

BOOM!

As the explosion echoed across the countryside, Jacob and Tin Man rushed out of their hiding spot, scrambling up the embankment in time to see a burning vehicle and seven bodies.

“Secure the aircraft!” Jacob said as he checked for survivors.

There were none. He’d placed two grenades set on proximity sensors underneath each of the two guards he and Tin Man had dispatched. Once they were jostled, all of them blew and took out the entire team. There was the sound of a short struggle as Tin Man quickly killed the two aircrew and tossed them out the back.

“What was your plan after capturing this aircraft?”

“I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead,” Jacob admitted. “I figured we’d just take the aircraft back to the starport. Probably won’t be getting the deposit back on the ground car.”

“There is still another aircraft unaccounted for,” Tin Man pointed out.

“True, but we’re still better off airborne than walking all the way back to the starport.”

“A fair point. We should leave now.”

Jacob took one last look around, impressed with the amount of carnage and destruction he and Tin Man had caused in such a short time. Not a personal best, but still not bad.

2

Marcus Webb woke slowly, his head throbbing.

Before he even opened his eyes, he could tell he was in a cell of some sort. There was an unmistakable feel and smell to it. He was uninjured and unrestrained but, other than that, he had no idea where he was or who had taken him.

He lay still and listened for a moment longer, picking up the sounds of others moving about nearby. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that he was, indeed, in a cell. It was decently large, as far as that sort of thing went. Probably close to ten by fifteen feet, with the entire front wall being a transparent barrier with vent holes large enough to let air and sound pass through, but not a human hand. He could also make out the faint shimmering of an energy shield, which meant sticking a finger through the hole would be rewarded with a brutal shock.

“It is nice to see you awake and well, Admiral.”

Webb squinted to look into the cell across and to the left of his own.

“Similan?” he asked in surprise. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Indeed,” Similan said. “Although I believe I was simply a target of opportunity while they have been planning your fate for some time.”

Similan was the enigmatic right hand of T’Cali Amon, the Minister of Imperial Intelligence. He had been with Amon as far back as when the minister had gone by another name; Saditava Mok. Mok had been a feared and ruthless crime boss, head of the Blazing Sun syndicate with an empire of his own that controlled nearly a third of ConFed space. When Mok had resumed his old identity and went back to the Eshquarian Empire to help them rebuild after the ConFed attack, Similan had stuck with him.

During a recent incident on Eshquaria, Similan had gone missing. Amon had even reached out to Scout Fleet to keep an eye out for him, but it had been like he had just disappeared. As it had happened after a direct confrontation with Carolyn Whitney, many assumed she had killed him. Webb knew better since, during the time Similan had disappeared, he and Jacob Brown had been with Whitney aboard a Cridal ship.

“Do you know why we’ve been brought here?” Webb asked.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Similan countered.

“I-I’m not sure,” Webb admitted. “I remember coming down from my ship. I think I made it into my house?”

“Side effect of the drug they used to knock you out,” Similan said. “I believe they need to get your mind into a steady rest state in order to take one last scan for the imprint.”

“Imprint?”

“An imprecise term, perhaps,” Similan said. “It’s a new technology like I’ve never seen. They’re able to make biomechanical copies of people, and then imbue them with a consciousness so convincing that the thing itself doesn’t know it’s a copy.”

“Seeladas Dalton,” Webb whispered.

“An earlier version, but yes,” Similan said.

“How do you know that?”

“Our hosts are quite chatty. It’s painfully clear they have no intention of letting us go. We will likely be kept alive until they are certain they have no further use for us, and then we’ll simply disappear.”

“You’re a ray of sunshine,” Webb said sourly. “How often do they come down to see us?”

“Not often,” Similan said.

“I wonder why they picked me for this honor,” Webb said.

“Because, Marcus,” a new voice said, “you became an impediment to their goals. Now, they have all of Scout Fleet.”

Webb looked as the newcomer came to the front of his cell, though he already knew who it was.

Fleet Admiral Nathan Grant, Supreme Commander of UEAS Forces, Orion Sector.

Grant was essentially the highest-ranking military member of any human world. He controlled Olympus, the shipyards over Terranovus, and had direct access to the most powerful people on Earth. He also had access and clearance to some of Earth’s most sensitive military secrets and technologies. It would almost be better to have the president be an imposter than an officer in Grant’s position.

“Admiral Grant,” he said. “It would appear they have much more than Scout Fleet.”

Gunnery Sergeant Jeff Mettler was up on his feet again, but he was still moving more slowly than usual.

On the previous mission, he had been on the wrong end of an ambush on Pinnacle Station. He’d taken three hits to the torso, and it had been touch and go on the way back to Mosler Station whether or not he’d make it. Thankfully, between the miracle of medical nanites and the quick initial response of his crewmates, he was making a full recovery. By all accounts, he should be grateful and optimistic but, instead, he was consumed with guilt and anxiety.

While he was just finishing up a light jog, one of his brothers was lying in traction without the use of his legs. Alonso “Murph” Murphy had also been hit in the attack, but a round had taken him right in the spine, and the damage had been too extensive to repair with nanites. There had been some success with cloning replacement parts like organs and limbs but, thus far, they’d had no luck with this technique when it came to the human nervous system.

Murph would be given a prosthetic system that would give him his mobility back, but he would no longer be eligible for field work. For someone like him, it may as well have been a death sentence. Mettler put those thoughts out of his mind and climbed the stairs to the medical facility, wincing slightly as it stretched the newly formed skin in places.

“Gunny,” a receptionist greeted him.

“Mettler here to see Murphy.”

“You sure you want to keep subjecting yourself to this?” she asked.

“Bad today?” Mettler asked.

“Sergeant Marcos left earlier this morning and swore he wouldn’t be back.”

“We’ll see.”

Murph had been neither grateful nor gracious to his teammates who came to keep him company and lift his spirits. Even the normally unflappable Sully was beginning to wear down from the constant abuse. But Mettler wouldn’t be so easily defeated. If it was him laid up in a bed, he knew damn well that Murph would be the one who would refuse to leave his side.

“What the fuck do you want?” Murph asked the moment Mettler stepped through the open door.

“How’re you doing today, Murph?” Mettler asked pleasantly.

“How am I? Oh, let’s see…I’m stuck in this bed, shitting into a bag, pissing through a tube they shoved up me. Other than that, I’m great. How the fuck are you, Mettler!?”

“I can’t complain,” Mettler said with a shrug. Murph leaned back into the pillow.

“Just leave me alone. All of you,” he whispered. “Please.”

“I can’t do that, Murph,” Mettler said. “Neither can the others, and you know why.”

“When do you think⁠—”

“Agent Murphy,” a voice said from the doorway.

“Admiral,” Murph said as Webb walked into the room with Commander Weathers in tow. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I mostly just wanted to check up on how you were holding up,” Webb said. “I hear that a team from Earth will be here in two weeks to begin fitting the new prosthetics.”

“I’m…not actually certain I’m going through with that, sir,” Murph said. “This type of prosthesis requires them amputating my legs. That’s a big step.”

“Get the fitment done, and then take the time to make your decision,” Webb said. “You’ve all the time you need.”

“Was there anything else, sir?”

“There was one more thing. It seems your team is short a leader and a battlesynth. I was hoping you—either of you—might enlighten me as to where Captain Brown and Tin Man are.”

Mettler almost opened his mouth, but he caught Reggie imperceptibly shake his head. Not understanding what was going on, but trusting the commander completely, he just shrugged. Murph also caught the gesture.

“I’m sorry, Admiral,” he said. “After the attack at Pinnacle, we were separated and lost contact.”

“I’m aware,” Webb said. “But I know that Scout Teams develop secondary, unofficial protocols for communication. I was hoping he may have reached out to any of you. It’s crucial we find him.”

“I wish I could help, sir,” Murph said. Webb gave them each an unreadable stare before turning and leaving without saying anything more. Once he was outside, Reggie turned to them.

“Not a fucking word,” he said so softly his lips didn’t even move. “Not to each other and not here.”

Reggie left the room. Murph and Mettler just stared at each other, not sure what the hell had just happened.

“Still want me to just leave you alone?” Mettler asked.

“Yes,” Murph said.

“Damn it! We need you, Murph.”

“And I don’t care.”

“What will it take to get you onboard? You don’t have to do anything, we just need your brains.”

“I…can’t. I just can’t,” Murph said.

“Murph…it’s Jake and Tin Man,” Mettler said. “You’d just abandon them?”

“If I meet with Reg and hear what he has to say, will you leave me alone after that?”

“Uh…maybe.”

“There are mobility units,” Murph continued. “Two were shipped to the base last month. They have all the specialized support equipment I need built-in so that I can move about for limited amounts of time. You’ll need to get them to bring me one.”

“Why haven’t you used one of these before?” Mettler asked.

“I…didn’t want to,” Murph said. “I just wanted to be left alone not take long strolls in the park with you assholes.”

“I’ll get on it,” Mettler promised.

Mettler left the room, completely confused. He was used to some pretty weird shit working in an intelligence unit like Scout Fleet, but things on Mosler Station were usually more or less normal. Whatever was going on, the captain was going to need to know about it, but he didn’t dare reach out through normal channels. He’d wait to hear from Reggie before taking any action.

“Is he in a better mood?”

“Huh?” Mettler looked up and saw Angel “MG” Marcos coming toward him. “Not really, but he’s agreed to get a mobility unit so that he can get out of here for short stretches.”

“Nice work!” MG said.

“Sure,” Mettler said. “Anyway, he’s sleeping right now. I need you to come with me. We have stuff to do.”

“We’re on standdown,” MG protested.

“Break is over.”

3

“Doesn’t look like they’re pursuing, but I can’t guarantee we’re not being tracked.”

“It would be safe to assume that we are,” Tin Man said. “What do you suggest?”

“We need to get back to Boneshaker without anybody knowing the ship is tied to us,” Jacob said. “We’ll need to put down and change vehicles.”

They’d been flying for nearly forty minutes at low-level to avoid engaging the other aircraft but, for some reason, it looked like they weren’t coming after them. Perhaps they were still investigating both of the disaster scenes he and Tin Man had left, but as a team leader, Jacob certainly wouldn’t have just let someone kill half his men and take off with an aircraft without at least giving chase.

The strange synth component they’d recovered from Obonoda was in his thigh pocket, along with all the hard currency. Jacob wasn’t sure what to make of that. It was doubtful anything critical would be left in a simple floor safe within an unsecured, under-manned location. But he’d seen stranger things since he started this job.

“There is a logistics hub seven klicks northeast of our position,” Tin Man said.

“Good idea,” Jacob said. “Let’s find someplace to… Ah! Perfect.”

“I am not in love with this idea,” Tin Man said as he looked the same direction Jacob was. “I suppose I will have to carry you.”

“That would be the quickest way,” Jacob agreed pleasantly.

Jacob flew the aircraft out over a large freshwater lake and brought it into a hover less than two meters off the surface. Tin Man climbed out of his seat and walked back to the center, pulling open the dorsal access hatch and climbing up onto the top of the craft. Jacob silenced the alarms from the hatch opening while in flight and opened the rear ramp. He descended until the ramp touched the water before setting the auto-hover and climbing out of his own seat.

“Get ready!”

He yanked the emergency shutdown for the engines and braced as the aircraft dropped the last half a meter to the lake surface. Water rushed in through the open rear ramp as Jacob calmly walked to the open hatch and pulled himself up and out. The pair stood on the aircraft as it bobbed in the water.

Thirty seconds later, it was still bobbing.

“I sort of assumed it would sink with the back hatch open,” Jacob said.

“It is a well-designed aircraft,” Tin Man said. “I think it would be best if I expedite things.”

“Go for it.”

Tin Man switched over to combat mode and walked to the open hatch, firing his arm-mounted cannons five times down into the craft. The shots punched through in different locations on the deck and, almost immediately, water bubbled up and churned into the hold.

They remained for another few seconds as the craft sunk lower into the water before Tin Man grabbed Jacob around the midsection and fired his repulsors, arcing them high and toward the shoreline. He had to adjust their flight twice more before slamming into the soft, sandy soil of the banks. Wasting no time, they ran into the trees on a direct course for the logistics hub Tin Man had spotted. They were now only two klicks away.

The compound they walked onto was unsecure. It was a commercial hub that looked like a standard distribution center. The containers they saw moving around on automated sleds indicated that they had cargo coming in from area starports. Jason motioned for Tin Man to remain behind a pair of containers as he approached one of the locals.

“Hello,” he said cheerfully.

“Can I help you?” the alien said. He appeared to be more annoyed than alarmed.

“I’m looking for a ride up to Spyl City Starport,” Jacob said. “Any chance I could⁠—”

“Does this look like a passenger shuttle service?” the alien asked.

“My apologies,” Jacob said. “My friend and I are in a bit of a pinch and were hoping we could pay you to hitch a ride on one of your transports.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the chits he stole from Obonoda’s safe and handed it over. The worker pinched it, and his eyes widened when he saw it was loaded with two-thousand credits. Jacob mentally kicked himself for not checking it first. That was way too much for a simple lift, and it would make the worker suspicious.

“You and your friend…dangerous?” he finally asked.

“No. Just…in a hurry,” Jacob said. “There’s a ship waiting for us at Spyl, but it won’t wait forever, and our transportation has been somewhat unreliable.”

“My transport drivers…”

“Are perfectly safe,” Jacob assured him. “We’ll ride in the cargo area if need be. Comfort is not our main concern.”

The worker looked at the chit again and then motioned Jacob to follow him. He didn’t seem startled when Tin Man walked from cover, which was unusual. They walked over to a staging area for the transports where the worker spoke briefly with one of the drivers. A moment later, as expected, the worker came back with an apologetic look. Jacob already had two more credit chits out and ready.

“One for your driver, and one more for you…for your expediency.”

“You do business well,” the worker said, smiling appreciatively. “This transport is going straight to Spyl City Starport’s cargo terminal. That is acceptable?”

“Completely.”

“Then, please, this way.”

The pair was secure in the space between two cargo containers as the grav-lev system on the multi-car transport came to life. It lifted over two hundred tons of transport and cargo, rising from the tarmac and slowly moving toward the gates. As it picked up speed, the second aircraft streaked overhead.

“It did not sound like they slowed over the compound,” Tin Man said.

“They’re looking where we stashed the aircraft,” Jacob said. “If that lake was deep enough, they may assume we found the tracker and disabled it.”

“That is a trait I have come to admire about you,” Tin Man said.

“My analytical thinking skills?”

“Your blind optimism.”

The ride back to the starport was uneventful, but much longer than Jacob had anticipated. Apparently, the cargo transports on Pek-4 moved a lot slower than the private ground cars. By the time they were let out at the cargo terminal, Jacob had a stiff neck and a cramped lower back that was killing him.

“Ship seems okay,” he said, showing Tin Man his com unit. “Nobody approached it while we were gone.”

“I actually thought that we would be intercepted by the enemy before we made it this far,” Tin Man said. “Your insistence on leaving the ship here may have paid off.”

Normally on a two-man op, standard Scout Fleet doctrine dictated they both remain a distance from the ship that would be considered reasonable to reach on foot. Jacob argued that with a battlesynth and an augment, reasonable could mean many things. As with any other Scout Fleet procedure he didn’t agree with, Jacob simply ignored it.

The walk to Boneshaker was blessedly uneventful. Jacob was anxious to get her into the air and off-world. He risked a lap in the holding pattern to see if he spotted any of Obonoda’s friends, but there was no guarantee that they operated out of that starport. If they had a big enough operation, they were probably using a private field.

“What shall we do now?” Tin Man asked once Boneshaker reached departure altitude. “I assume our standing order not to return to Mosler Station is still in effect.”

“As far as I know. The admiral said not to call him, but he’d call us,” Jacob said. “Feel like Niceen-3?”

“Not particularly.”

“Eshquaria?”

“Pass.”

“Since when did you become so picky?”

“Since I have been given a choice.”

“Pinnacle?”

Tin Man considered this for a moment.

“Acceptable.”

“Perfect! We’ve agreed on something in less than five minutes. This is real progress,” Jacob said. He punched in the navigation data by memory and brought the ship onto a course for mesh-out. Once the computer took over, he pulled the black case from his pocket. “You think we have the gear onboard to analyze this?”

“We can do a preliminary scan of the matrix, but we would need specialized equipment to do a more in-depth analysis,” Tin Man said. “I would caution you to not put too much hope into that device yielding any useable intel considering where we found it.”

“It’s not like we have anything else going,” Jacob said, sliding out of his seat.

When the entire team was aboard Boneshaker, she felt too small, and they were always on top of each other. With just him and Tin Man, he had room to stretch out. She started life as an Exech-class Type II combat shuttle originally built for the Eshquarian Imperial Navy nearly sixty years ago.

After being sold as decommissioned surplus, she had been a currency mule for Saditava Mok before Jacob and his team stole her off Niceen-3. After that, the engineering crews at Mosler Station had torn her down to the frame spars and built her back as a lean, mean, and cutting-edge combat vehicle that only looked like a dilapidated old troop hauler.

Jacob walked through the galley and back into the small engineering bay where the test fixture was. The system was mostly automated, so he was able to just place the matrix onto the pad and begin a standard analysis. Nanite chains formed and sought out connections on the device, the computer sorting it all out without any input from Jacob.

He sat for a few minutes, watching the machine attempt to activate and communicate with the device. It wasn’t a quick process and likely wouldn’t be done by the time they reached Pinnacle, but still he sat and stared at the status updates as they scrolled along on the display.

To Jacob’s surprise, the computer was able to make some preliminary findings right away. The crystalline structure was indeed a processing matrix, but the computer quickly determined it wasn’t from a synth despite that being the most common application for such a device.

For the most part, the quadrant utilized electronic devices for computing. There were different methods and scales, but they all operated roughly on the same principles. They were cheap, plentiful, and reliable for most applications.

When the geniuses on Khepri began designing their synthetic race of beings, however, they quickly realized their creations would need something more robust. The crystalline processing matrix was developed and gave the synths the mental horsepower they required in a package that would never degrade and rarely failed over time.

The problem with the synth-type processing matrix was that, even after centuries of development and production, they were still horrifically expensive to make. Very high costs, very low yields. Even after all this time, the Kheprians struggled to fully understand the process of how they were grown. So, if the one sitting in front of Jacob didn’t come from a synth, what was it for?

“Anything of interest yet?” Tin Man asked from the hatchway.

“It’s not a synth brain,” Jacob said. “So, that actually gives us a good place of where not to look.”

“Interesting,” Tin Man said, moving closer and peering at the matrix. “As far as I am aware, there are only two places where these devices can be successfully produced in large quantities.”

“Could be a prototype,” Jacob said. “No idea for what, though.”

“I think we need to be very careful with this,” Tin Man said, suddenly very serious. “When we get to Pinnacle, we will need to screen any potential labs we use to analyze it.”

“Think it’s hot?”

“Radioactive.”

Tin Man walked away, leaving Jacob with an uneasy feeling in his gut. He looked at the device sitting in the test fixture and frowned.

“So…what the hell are you?”

4

“Seriously…why are we here?”

“Because we were asked to be,” Murph said. He was seated in his new mobility unit, but he didn’t look like he was enjoying it. MG just rolled his eyes and continued his pacing.

They were in their hangar at 0300 hours at the request of Commander Weathers. The building was empty since Boneshaker was with Captain Brown and Corsair was still sitting on Eshquaria.

“He’s here,” Mettler said from the entry door where he was keeping watch.

A moment later, Reggie walked in looking fearful and stressed. He nodded to Mettler to lock the door and walked over to where the others had gathered.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said. “I don’t know who I can trust, and I don’t know if I’m being watched or not.”

“Jesus, Reg…what’s going on?” MG asked. “And where the hell is Sully? If I have to be up this late, his ass should be as well.”

“Commander Sullivan was not asked to come,” Reggie said. “He will be on a transport heading to Olympus within the week and beginning Command School. As a favor to him, I decided not to involve him in any of this.”

“So, he’s officially out?” Mettler asked. “Not part of the team?”

“He is still officially attached to Scout Fleet until he graduates and is reassigned but, for now, I think it would be best if he focuses on his own career.”

“What does the admiral think about that?” MG asked.

“That’s why we’re speaking right now,” Reggie said seriously. “What I’m saying goes no further than this group. Am I understood?”

“Got it,” Murph said. “If I could still move my feet they’d be tapping in excitement…so, get on with it.”

“I don’t think whatever is sleeping up on Midway Avenue right now is actually Admiral Marcus Webb,” Reggie said. “I think it’s an imposter.”

“Wait, what?!” MG asked. “You mean like what they did with Seeladas?”

“I’m not sure,” Reggie admitted. “Captain Brown debriefed me on what happened with the fake Seeladas Dalton, as well as the secret lab on Diwa Station, so I scanned the admiral when he came in through the security checkpoint at the Ops center. It came back normal. Whatever he is, he’s not a mechanical avatar like Dalton was.”

“What keyed you in on it?” Murph asked. “Besides your super powers?”

On paper, Reggie was listed as Admiral Webb’s aide. In reality, he was a critical advisor. Reggie had advanced degrees in behavioral psychology and an uncanny ability to read humans. No little twitch or nuance of speech went unnoticed. He could tell more about a person by simply watching them interact for ten minutes than many interrogators could do with a full interview.

“Gaps in his memory for starters,” Reggie said. “He was missing critical information, even seeming to not remember things he himself put into motion. I can tell that…whatever it is…wasn’t attempting to be deceitful.”

“The information they programmed it with might have been incomplete,” Murph suggested.

“So, you’re onboard with me on this?” Reggie asked. “I have more if you⁠—”

“No need,” Murph said. “Your word is enough, and you know the admiral better than any of us. If you’re telling us he’s not who he says he is, we’ll take that at face value.”

“The real question is what we’re supposed to do with this information,” Mettler said. “I assume you’re not asking us to take this thing by force.”

“Of course not,” Reggie said. “But I need you to try to get in contact with Captain Brown. He was with Admiral Webb prior to him returning to the Kentucky. He may have some insight, and we need to keep this completely back channel. If I try to reach out to Boneshaker, there will be a log of it, and it will let the fake know that I have more information than I’m letting on.”

“We’re on it,” Murph said. “We have some off the books assets⁠—”

“You don’t say,” Reggie deadpanned.

“—that we can bring into play. Any chance you can get us off the planet?”

“Not easily.” Reggie blew a breath out through pursed lips. “With both of your ships out in the wild, I would have to come up with a compelling reason why three operators needed to be given special access…not to mention you’re lacking a pilot right now.”

“Ah, shit,” Murph said. “Still feels weird not having Sully here. And let’s be honest, I can’t leave the base. This floating chair may look fun, but I’m only good for nine or ten hours before it needs to be charged or the piss bucket needs emptied.”

“Fun visual, but it brings up something else,” Mettler said. “Can we expedite the prosthesis? Claim that Murph is mission critical?”

“No dice,” Reggie said. “He’s listed as medically deactivated, and I can’t change that without jumping through a lot of hoops and threatening some of the medical staff. Sorry, Murph…for now, you’re stuck in your hover toilet.”

“We’ll try to get you what we can,” Mettler said. “How do we reach you?”

“Through Murph,” Reggie said. “I’ll have him switched to home care and have his residence swept regularly. I’ll make a habit of visiting him every day for morale, and we’ll use that to begin passing information back and forth. We can’t be doing these late-night secret meetings too often. It’s begging to get caught by the wrong people.”

“I guess this is better than sitting around doing nothing,” MG said.

“You’re supposed to be doing your regular training and maintenance schedule when not on-mission,” Reggie said.

“Yeah…pretty bored doing nothing,” MG yawned, pretending not to hear.

The next afternoon, MG and Mettler raced through the surrounding forest on motorized bikes the locals called skees. They were speedy, two-wheeled jobs that had an interesting feature that made them a huge hit with the humans on Mosler Station. They were equipped with a miniaturized grav-lev generator that, when activated, would drop the bike’s weight by ninety percent for around four or five seconds before needing to be charged back up.

In those few seconds, the rider could take the bike for huge jumps or bursts of high speed as the motors didn’t need to haul so much weight around. The humans had fallen in love with the skees the moment the locals sold that first one to some Marine corporal. Enterprising technicians on the base had propped up a whole side business taking skees and converting them over to the more familiar motorcycle controls and reselling them.

Mettler slowed on the trail and took a narrow fork to the right. It was so overgrown that if you didn’t know it was there, you would ride right past it without a second thought. He heard MG swear as he almost missed the turn before catching back up. The pair rode through a shallow creek, up a steep incline, and then across a grassy field before coming to what looked like a shallow, rocky ravine.

It was, in fact, a long disused roadbed that led down to a series of underground bunkers that were part of the base’s original construction from well before Scout Fleet took it over.

“What do you think they kept in these things?” MG asked as his skee rolled up to a quiet stop beside Mettler’s.

“Look like munition bunkers,” Mettler said. “They’re in an odd place, so probably something like bio or chemical weapons.”

“Cheery,” MG said. “Before we do this…you sure you believe Reg?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe him,” Mettler said. “I trust him.”

“You’re sick in the head,” MG said. “How the hell you’ve managed to stay alive so long with an attitude like that is beyond me.”

“Funny. Let’s go. We stay gone too long, and it might be noticed.”

They dismounted and walked up to one of the bunkers. The armored door looked to be as weathered and corroded as the others in the row, but if one had a keen eye, they would see it fit just a bit differently than the others. Mettler opened a hidden panel and let the retinal scanner verify his identity before the locks on the door clanked, and it opened smoothly on electric actuators.

“After you,” he said to MG.

Juxtaposed from its abandoned-appearing exterior, inside the underground bunker was a cool, dry, clean environment. In the days following the collapse of One World after the death of Margaret Jansen, there was a lot of uncertainty within the UEAS, NAVSOC specifically. Captain Brown had sent them on a mission to find a place where they could retreat and run operations out of in an emergency.

“Fire up the hyperlink,” Mettler said. “We’ll try Boneshaker first.”

“Boneshaker’s hyperlink is active,” MG said. “It’s the one that nobody knows about.”

It didn’t take long for someone to answer on the other end.

“Is this an emergency?”

“Nice to see you, too, Tin Man,” Mettler said. “Is the captain around?”

“He is. Standby,” Tin Man said.

“You’ll need to hear this, too,” Mettler assured him. “I just don’t want to tell the story twice.”

It was a few minutes before a bleary-eyed Jacob Brown walked onto the flight deck and flounced into the seat.

“Speak,” he ordered.

“Not a morning person, eh?” MG asked.

“It’s not morning, dumbass,” Jacob shot back. “What do you two want?”

Mettler quickly laid out the situation exactly as Reggie had told it to them. As they spoke, Jacob became more awake and more alarmed in equal measure. After he and MG had finished, Jacob sat back in his seat, rubbing his face.

“If anybody would know that Webb isn’t himself, it’s Reg,” he finally said. “Have either of you two personally seen anything that gave you pause?”

“He didn’t know where you were,” Mettler said. “It was like he completely forgot about where he’d just come from or that he’d ordered you to stay clear of human territory. Other than that? Couldn’t tell the difference.”

“It would appear Loen Pyx did not keep her word,” Tin Man said.

Dr. Loen Pyx was a Kheprian cyberneticist who lived on a massive deep space installation called Diwa Outpost. In addition to being the sociopathic researcher who had made Carolyn Whitney an unstoppable killing machine, she’d also been dabbling in making lifelike replicas of galactic leaders. She had created an avatar of Seeladas Dalton convincing enough to fool her closest advisors right up until someone shot it in the face.

“No idea,” Mettler said. “What we do know is that if Webb is a fake, it isn’t a cybernetic creation. This one passed a bio scan.”

“Did she upgrade her hardware to spoof bio scanners?” Jacob asked.

“You would know more about that than we would,” Mettler said.

“Just so you know, Webb—or whoever it is—asked us directly about you two,” MG said. “Asked where you were and if we knew how to find you. Reg was there to warn us off, thankfully.”

“So, whatever you’re doing to stay off the radar, keep doing it,” Mettler added. “How’s Boneshaker?”

“Shipshape,” Jacob said. “Thankfully, Scout Fleet ships can’t be tracked by Fleet Ops. We’ll stay away from any UEN or NIS outposts.”

“And we’ll make sure we scrub any mention of our safehouses or friendly harbors on our side,” Mettler said. “We kept all that out of the official mission reports, but who knows if there was some mention somewhere else.”

“Just don’t get caught,” Jacob warned. “No point in everyone’s career going down the shitter on our account. How’s Murph?”

“Honestly? Bad,” MG said. “But we’re working on him.”

“Damn,” Jacob said. “Just… don’t let him lay there thinking he’s alone. And keep your heads down. I don’t want you guys doing anything crazy. Understood?”

“Sure,” MG said, convincing nobody.

Jacob gave them both one last warning look before killing the channel.

“I feel like something huge is about to happen,” Mettler said. “Something that won’t remain covert like the One World bullshit. We need to play this very carefully.”

“Yeah…or we could end up in a cell on Olympus,” MG grunted.

“It’s not us I’m worried about.”

5

“Interesting.”

“Yep,” Jacob said. “What do you think?”

“It is entirely plausible that Admiral Webb has been replaced by an avatar,” Tin Man said after a moment of thought. “But with the Cridal situation contained, it is unclear who would be doing this. Or why.”

“How committed were you to Pinnacle Station?” Jacob asked.

“We cannot make it to Diwa Outpost without stopping for provisioning,” Tin Man pointed out. “Fuel will be tight but acceptable. However, I do not wish to deal with your moods if you are forced to eat nothing but UEN rations the entire trip.”

“So…Pinnacle first?”

“It would be the most logical option.”

Jacob left their current course alone but bumped up the slip-drive another fifteen percent. The computer recalculated their arrival time, and he saw he they went from nearly fourteen hours down to just under eight.

“You talked to your contact on Pinnacle?”

“It has been arranged,” Tin Man said. “701 has assured me the lab we are going to is skilled. And discreet.”

“You two patched things up?” Jacob asked carefully.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I mean that when we were on the Devil’s Fortune, there was a noted tension between the two of you.”

Tin Man didn’t answer. He had been working with humans for several years now. Before he had been known as Combat Unit 707, he was the respected leader of his cadre. But after choosing to remain with the human recon team and even taking a name, something that was taboo among the battlesynth race, there had been a definite aloofness Jacob noticed whenever his friend was among his own kind again.

“They do not understand,” Tin Man said finally. “They accept that we were built different from other battlesynths. They are prideful in that distinction. Yet, when one of us exercises the freedom of choice we were gifted, the collective becomes resentful.

“For some time, I have been…unsettled. Perhaps discontent would be a more accurate way to describe it. I had been in the company of my lot mates since my matrix came online. I wished to make my own way.”

“Like Lucky did,” Jacob said.

“Combat Unit 777 was the best of us,” Tin Man said. “He should have been our leader, but he deferred to me. When he left us, there was anger and confusion in our ranks…yet, all I felt was admiration, and perhaps envy, that he was able to do what I would not. When he found a home with your father’s crew, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I would need to leave as well.”

“The Omega Force crew sort of found each other,” Jacob said. “Still not sure how my dad ended up in charge with so many strong personalities. Crusher was damn near royalty. From what I understand, there wasn’t even an argument…they just named him captain and that was that.”

“Your father possesses a focus and vision that most do not,” Tin Man said. “Felex Tezakar, for all of his power and prowess in combat, had rejected leadership. He fled his homeworld and the mantle of Guardian Archon. Both he and Lucky were looking for someplace to belong not for a group to lead.”

“Could have been worse,” Jacob said. “Kage could have ended up in command.”

“I am not sure Jason would have lived long enough to father you if the Veran had been put in charge,” Tin Man said.

Pinnacle Station was a special place.

It was the only Mega Platform that was close to Earth and arguably the most important in the quadrant. The massive platform was in a heliocentric trailing orbit, anchored behind a small rocky world. Pinnacle was the commerce hub of the Orion Sector. The raw tonnage of goods that were moved through the station’s mid-level logistical hubs was staggering.

The station was beautiful, in its own way. Pinnacle Station was thousands of years old, the original structure buried deep within layers and layers of expansion and rebuilds. As the station grew outward, older sections would be abandoned, then eventually repurposed. Academics spent whole careers exploring the older levels. Jacob had been to the station dozens of times and had probably only seen less than a tenth of a percent of the behemoth.

“Private hangar?” Tin Man asked in surprise.

“I guess I’m a little nervous after what happened to Murph and Mettler,” Jacob said. “I also don’t want any NAVSOC personnel walking through a public hangar and recognizing Boneshaker.”

“Highly unlikely, but it is your money. Waste it as you wish.”

“Humans don’t live all that long, my friend. I’ve got enough money stashed away for ten lifetimes thanks to our dirty dealings. Let me live it up a bit.”

Admiral Webb—the real one—knew that Jacob and his team had access to massive amounts of money they had accumulated during the course of their missions, starting with the cash haul to Saditava Mok that had been aboard the Eshquarian shuttle they stole. After that, they seemed to keep stumbling upon hoards of currency or precious metals belonging to people they’d killed or who would no longer have any need for it. Webb encouraged them to stash it in the Central Banking System away from Central Command to fund operations off the books.

After a short delay and an additional fee, Boneshaker was cleared to the private hangar Jacob had secured. When he landed, he saw why the cost had been so exorbitant. Apparently, he’d not only picked a private hangar but a luxury berthing for his beat-up combat shuttle. When he and Tin Man disembarked, him still wearing his grungy mission clothing, they were greeted by an Eshquarian in formal wear holding a tray with a variety of drinks.

“A refresher, sirs?” the attendant asked.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jacob said, grabbing what he recognized as a dry, carbonated drink in the tall, skinny glass. “Thank you.”

“Of course. What will your needs be for this visit to Pinnacle Station?”

“We’re just here to recreate,” Jacob said, handing over a credit chit loaded with a thousand credits. “Not looking to meet anybody that we might know, if you take my meaning.”

“Your ship’s registry will not be recorded in station logs and your idents need not be scanned,” the Eshquarian said. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“The others will be sorry they missed this,” Tin Man remarked once the attendant left the hangar.

“Look at the floor in here,” Jacob said. “And the walls. This place is better than my house.”

“Wasteful,” Tin Man sniffed. “You have the device?”

“Of course.”

They left the VIP hangar complex and caught one of the tram tubes that would take them to deeper into the station. They had five trams and two lifts to take to get to the section Tin Man’s contact was in. Even though Jacob knew the odds of running into UEAS or NIS personnel were negligible, he still kept a lookout for any stray humans.

The trip from the hangar to the lab took nearly two hours, but Jacob didn’t mind. Boneshaker was a small ship, and it was nice to get out and stretch his legs. When they arrived, he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“This is a currency exchange.”

“Of course it is,” Tin Man said, walking into innocuous looking shop.

Jacob followed and noticed that the front desk was manned by two synths. Both looked at Tin Man and regarded Jacob with a less than friendly stare.

“How’s it going?” Jacob asked.

“Your business?” one of the synths demanded.

“We are here to see Kessii,” Tin Man said. “We are expected.”

It was another ten-minute wait before an older pru walked out, her eyes lighting up when she saw Tin Man.

“Well, well, well…707,” she said. “It really was you.”

“I am called Tin Man now, but it is me.”

“Fascinating,” Kessii said. “Well, come on back before people start to notice you.”

Jacob followed the pair through a door, through a large room that actually looked like a currency exchange, and then through a hidden door in the back. Past that door was a lab that was well-equipped but showing its age.

“Moonlight as a researcher when you’re not counting money?” he asked.

“This is a decommissioned Kheprian Intelligence asset,” Kessii said. “They retired it, and me, nearly twenty years ago. But Pinnacle had become my home, and I had no desire to return to Khepri. I asked if I could keep the cover business running, and my handlers said they didn’t care. They sent a cleaner crew to take all the classified material and, years later…here we are.”

“The synths out front?” Jacob asked.

“Part of the original staffing,” Kessii confirmed. “Loyal to me.”

“Kessii was what you would call a case officer in her early career,” Tin Man said. “We helped each other out a few times and kept in touch since.”

“So, what’s so big that you couldn’t risk Khepri finding out about?” Kessii asked.

Jacob pulled the device from his thigh pocket and handed it over along with a hard copy of his initial analysis. He’d had it printed in Jenovian Standard. She opened the case and looked at the matrix with interest while reading the report, frowning.

“We found it in that state,” Tin Man said. “Already removed from whatever it might have been controlling.”

“I will need to call in my associates, but we have the ability to give you a full forensic analysis,” Kessii said. “My regular fee?”

“Of course,” Tin Man said.

“Come back in four hours. I should have something by then.”

“What’s the regular fee?” Jacob asked as they left the currency exchange.

“Your life is short, Captain,” Tin Man said, squeezing his shoulder. “You have more money than you can spend in ten lifetimes.”

“Hey! Don’t use my own words against me,” Jacob said as Tin Man walked off. “Get back here!”

6

True to her word, Kessii had full specs on the processing matrix once they arrived back at her shop.

“You have stumbled upon something significant,” Kessii said. “I’m not sure I even want to know where or how you found it.”

“What is it?” Jacob asked, taking the matrix back from her, along with a datacard that was labeled as the technical analysis.

“The device is calibrated to the bioelectrical patterns of a specific species,” she said. “Your species, Captain Brown. We also found trace biomatter that is consistent with humans.”

“So this was⁠—”

“In someone,” she confirmed.

“This is how they’re doing it,” Jacob said to Tin Man. “Someone is probably cloning bodies and figured out how to animate them using a modified synth processing matrix.”

“We thought that as well, but that’s implausible. At least they wouldn’t be able to do that with just the matrix,” Kessii said. “Outside resources think this may have been part of a prototype system.”

“Outside resources?” Jacob asked, concerned. “Who else did you share this with?”

“I needed to bring in a bionic researcher to consult,” Kessii said. “Everything is compartmentalized and secure. It cannot be traced back to you.”

“We will need to know who you sent this information to,” Tin Man said.

“You know I can’t do that,” she countered.

“I am afraid we must insist,” Tin Man said.

The two synths looked uneasy as the tension in the room increased. Kessii backed away as Tin Man squared off against the three of them.

“What is this about, 707?” she asked. “What are you doing?”

“We’re not doing anything,” Jacob assured her. “Yet. But we will absolutely need to know who else you shared this information with. You don’t likely understand the scope of this, but it has implications far larger than a scientific curiosity.”

“Be that as it may, I still can’t disclose a⁠—”

The alarm that told them someone had walked into the shop went off. They all looked at the monitor and saw that two Eshquarians had entered. One of the synths nodded to Kessii and walked out.

“We still work as a legit currency exchange,” she said. “He won’t be long.”

Jacob watched as one of the Eshquarians handed over a cash bag and talked for a moment before the synth nodded and walked back through the security checkpoint with the bag. At that, both Eshquarians ducked down behind the counter.

“Oh, shit…”

The explosion was violent enough to blast the lab’s hidden door off its hinges.

Jacob, Kessii, and the second synth were thrown off their feet, but Tin Man leaned into the blast and activated his mag-locks. He switched to combat mode and was able to meet the two assailants as they cleared the ruined door, mowing them down despite the covert body armor they wore beneath their clothing.

By the time Jacob was able to climb to his feet, the battlesynth was inspecting both attackers. Having worked with him long enough to read his body language, Jacob could tell something was bothering him. Before he could ask, he saw that Kessii had been badly injured in the blast.

“How is she?” he asked the synth.

“She will not live long.”

“You really need to work on your bedside manner.”

“Give…give 707 the…the contractor,” Kessii wheezed. She coughed up blood and began convulsing. The synth did nothing but hold her down until she took her last breath and fell silent.

“We do not have much time,” Tin Man said.

“I will give you the contractor’s information per her last wishes,” the synth said. “Although I blame you for her death.”

“I can see how you’d think that,” Jacob said. “And we’re truly sorry. We didn’t know the risks when we came or we would have warned her.”

The synth seemed to accept that and quickly went to a still-working computer terminal at the rear of the lab and did a transfer to a datacard. He handed it to Tin Man, who then handed it to Jacob.

“I hope we never see each other again,” the synth said before opening a hatch in the floor and slipping through, closing it behind him.

“We need to clear the area. Security will be here in seconds,” Jacob said.

Pinnacle Station was like any other complex society. There were rules and people who made sure those rules were enforced. Security forces aboard the station were decentralized for the most part, each province being responsible for their own services. Thankfully, Kessii’s operation hadn’t been based in the Top Quarter with their robust, well-funded law enforcement. This gave them a little time as the lower-tier emergency response system marshaled first responders to what was almost certainly reported as a mishap not an attack.

Jacob and Tin Man split up, blending into the crowd that had gathered and moving in different directions. The battlesynth, the more memorable of the pair, ducked into a maintenance access hatch to use the narrow walkways behind the public corridors to get clear of the damage.

The explosion had triggered several automated responses, including shutting down the tram lines, so Jacob had to move as quickly as he could without making it seem like he was fleeing. He had to travel three full sections before he found another tram line that was operational and going in the direction he needed. After that, it was a simple matter to backtrack his way to their private hangar.

“You made good time,” Tin Man said as Jacob cleared the security portico into the hangar complex.

“Apparently not as good as you did. We all clear?” Jacob asked.

“There is some chatter on the public Nexus about the explosion, but it is still being listed as a probable accident,” Tin Man said.

“We should probably get going as soon as we can either way,” Jacob said. “Once we’re in space, we can go over the data Kessii gave us.”

“Agreed.”

They summoned the Eshquarian attendant, settled their tab using one of the dummy corporations Murph had set up on Niceen-3 for them, and launched Boneshaker before security had a chance to start pulling surveillance footage of that section. The decentralization would work in their favor as each province would have to be asked for any footage.

Jacob eased the ship through the aerostatic barrier and into traffic, letting the computer take over as they worked their way through the orbiting formations to a safe departure distance. Traffic near the mid-tier wasn’t too heavy at the moment so they were quickly shuffled through and released without any security action bulletins coming through regarding their escapades earlier.

“So, I guess we know our next destination,” Jacob said.

“She will not be pleased to see us,” Tin Man warned.

“That’s probably an understatement, but we need to know if she’s back in the business of making copies of galactic leaders for the highest bidder.”

Jacob put them on course for their mesh-out point and climbed out of the pilot seat to do a quick check of the ship before jumping into slip-space. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d flown off with tracking bugs or other nasty surprises on their ship even after parking in a secure hangar.

After ninety minutes, the only thing he found was that their provision order was incomplete, but there was still plenty of food left aboard from when she’d been outfitted for a full crew. When he made it back to the flightdeck, Tin Man was already going through the data from the matrix analysis.

“Anything good?”

“It appears the device we have was likely a prototype,” Tin Man said. “Perhaps a proof of concept or an intermediate step for the avatars before they were fully operational.”

“Wonder why Obonoda had it,” Jacob said.

“It could have been seen as inconsequential once it was no longer needed,” Tin Man said. “I will know more when I finish reading.”

“In the meantime, I guess it’s back to Diwa Outpost. Hopefully, Loen Pyx doesn’t hold a grudge.”

Jacob engaged the slip-drive and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach. The person they were going to see might have been just an academic once upon a time, but she had proven herself to be quite dangerous when threatened.

7

Marcus Webb sat on the floor of his cell.

He wasn’t there because it was comfortable or because he was meditating. He was there because he was fucking bored and the floor was a little different from the bed or the chair. Even talking was a chore now. Similan and Grant were within earshot of him, but he had nothing left to say.

“Someone is coming,” Grant muttered. Webb just grunted.

Seconds later, someone shuffled into view. Webb was startled by their appearance, but he gave no outward reaction. The person was clearly a human male, probably a little past middle-aged, but they were horrifically disfigured to the point that Webb was thankful he hadn’t bothered to eat breakfast that morning.

“Hello, old friend,” a gravelly voice that seemed to struggle to be heard came through the holes in his cell barrier.

“No offense, but I think I’d remember you,” Webb said.

“Of course, of course,” the man said. One of the blue-uniformed lackeys that seemed to be everywhere ran up and placed a chair down so the man could sit. Webb noticed it wasn’t just that his face was disfigured, but his entire head appeared to be misshapen. “For what it’s worth, I hold no ill will toward you.”

“Great. Then, let me out.”

“Please, be serious. This will likely be the last time that we will speak.”

“Then, start by telling me who the fuck you are.”

The man leaned forward and stared at him. Webb saw that one eye was bionic and the other was a ruined mess of white. He idly wondered why he hadn’t replaced both eyes, but it appeared a large portion of the skull near the ruined eye was also badly damaged.

“We first met on Terranovus,” the man said. “Back when you were still just a SEAL being sent to the slaughter. You were so arrogant and confident. You had no idea Margaret was sending you after someone so dangerous. You’re lucky all he did was kill that moron, Steve Olber.”

Webb’s eyes narrowed at that. Seven Olber had been a Delta Force operator who was part of the original team Webb had led from Terranovus many years ago. Their mission had been to find and kill a rogue human named Jason Burke. Olber had rushed in with reckless abandon. Burke had killed him with a single punch, and then threw his corpse back at them.

Only a few people knew about that mission. Most were dead, including Margaret Jansen. Webb’s mind raced with the others who had been involved on the periphery, but he kept coming back to a single name that he knew should be impossible.

“Michael Welford,” he finally said.

“In the flesh…mostly,” Welford said.

“But—”

“Yes, yes…I’m supposed to be dead, right? I mean, that’s the usual course of events when someone has a genetic augment smash their head into a desk repeatedly until it pops like a ripe melon.”

“That’s been my experience,” Webb said. “Am I to understand you’re in charge around here?”

“Me?” Welford laughed. “No. Of course not. I’m simply a facilitator. Someone who had knowledge that my new employer needed.”

“Knowledge about humans,” Webb guessed. “Our political structure, military chain of command, and probably access to our tech.”

“Among other things,” Welford admitted.

“Why are you here? Why now?” Webb asked. He assumed that his own death was near since Welford was being overly forthcoming with information.

“Honestly? I just wanted to talk to you…one last time,” Welford said. “You’re smart enough to know you’ll never leave this cell alive. Even in my current state, I feel some regret over that.”

Michael Welford and Marcus Webb had a long, complicated history. It actually started well before Webb had even known aliens were real and that humans had been leaving the planet in some small numbers. Welford had been there in the very beginning, a CIA agent posing as a lowly Air Force lieutenant during a face-to-face meeting with some poor hapless fool who had stolen himself an older Jepsen gunship. He had been there to try and recover it for the greater good, and the hapless fool told him to piss off.

That meeting had propelled Welford up the ranks quickly as both a smart and tenacious agent as well as someone read-in on the details of extraterrestrial activity on Earth. He had been on Terranovus as an advisor to colony administrator Margaret Jansen. Welford had been instrumental in thwarting Jansen’s first attempt to take Earth with her Ull collaborators. He had been considered one of the good guys…right up until he wasn’t.

As it turned out, Welford had been with One World the entire time Scout Fleet had been hunting Margaret Jansen. At the time, he was the Naval Intelligence section director and had been using Webb and his teams to handle Jansen. He wanted her out of the way so that he could reorganize and streamline the rogue operation. Back then he…

A sickening realization hit Webb.

“You’re the source,” he said. “You gave them Jacob…didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Welford said. “My employer is intrigued by the two human augments, and getting our hands on his father has proven to be difficult. I assumed that Admiral Grant here would be able to handle capturing the son if given specific intel. Apparently, I gave him too much credit. Didn’t I, Admiral?”

“Fuck off,” Grant mumbled.

“When will our usefulness be at an end?” Webb asked. Welford struggled to stand and looked at him with that soulless bionic eye.

“It will be soon,” he said simply and walked out of view.

“What’s wrong, Webb…got someplace better to be?” Grant asked sarcastically.

“Nah. I just hate waiting, Admiral.”

“An interesting exchange,” Similan said. Webb looked over and saw the Eshquarian standing at the barrier with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’m glad you thought so.” Webb rolled his eyes and laid back on the floor.

Michael Welford stumbled down the corridor away from the cellblock.

Seeing Marcus Webb had brought back strong emotions in him. So strong that they had started to induce instabilities in the system that allowed him to walk and talk. His resurrection, so to speak, was a rush job and not nearly as evolved as some of the later systems he’d seen. The damage to his brain had been extensive, so compromises had to be made.

While he appeared to be a walking, talking, albeit badly injured man, the truth was he wasn’t sure how much of Michael Welford actually remained. He had access to his old memories. His thoughts had a familiarity to them inside his own mind. But there was something…off.

He still vividly remembered his face smashing into a heavy desk, the last memory he had before he woke up as he currently was. They told him many years had passed, but that there was still work left to do. He was confused and terrified, but the compulsion to do what he was asked dominated his thoughts.

“I must rest,” Welford said, moving toward a sitting area in the compound.

“The overseer wishes to speak to you, Director,” his aide said. “Perhaps it would be best to handle that first?”

At the mention of the overseer, Welford’s mind cleared. The anonymous being was his usual point of contact to the Synod, the people he now served.

“Of course,” he said, turning to follow the aide to the operations center.

He seated himself at a hyperlink terminal with some difficulty and took a moment to compose himself before sending a channel request. It was accepted quickly and, as always, the overseer was not visible in the feed. He was cast in shadow, but the strength and resolve he projected seemed to radiate from him and through the terminal.

“Report.”

“Things are progressing on schedule,” Welford said. “The Webb avatar has fully integrated into its assignment and is ready to begin. The Grant avatar will provide cover if needed. We are close, Overseer.”

“There can be no mistakes this time,” the overseer said. “After the failure of the Cridal operation and the loss of Goliath, the Synod want results. We all answer to someone, Director Welford.”

“We do,” Welford said. “But I don’t answer to you, Overseer.”

“Save your posturing, human. You were brought back for one reason, and you’ve failed to deliver. In addition to that, you have lost Goliath, Starfall, and let the Cridal situation spiral completely out of control. Your methods are overly complicated, resource-hungry, and are not producing results. So, while you don’t answer to me, you will want to heed my words. The Synod’s patience grows short.”

“Then, I think we understand each other, Overseer. You will have results soon enough.”

Welford killed the channel and leaned back in his chair, his pain forgotten at the moment. The overseer wasn’t wrong. Welford had proposed a complicated plan of subversion and deceit to take from Earth what they would fight to the knife to not lose. That might have been out of loyalty to his homeworld and a desire to avoid excess deaths, but it could also just have been his instincts as an intelligence operative run amok.

The Synod, a group he didn’t fully understand, had been operating in the shadows for centuries. The fall of the ConFed gave them the opportunity they’d been patiently waiting for to expand without the risk of being detected before they were ready. While they waited and schemed, they’d observed the emergence of humanity and were shocked as the upstart species blossomed and fielded a fleet that rivaled any in existence.

In humanity, they saw an opportunity to quickly level the playing field in their favor. It was the sole purpose for which Welford had been brought back for.

Through him, the Synod learned that Earth’s sudden rise to technological prominence wasn’t natural. It was spawned by the influx of knowledge from a long-extinct race most called the Ancients. When the Synod learned this, they coveted it above all else. Welford knew he didn’t have long to acquire the system they called the Ark or his benefactors would re-retire him.

8

“This place is nice. Quieter than Pinnacle. Less people trying to kill us than on Colton.”

“It is incredibly expensive to live here,” Tin Man said. “That aside, you seem to be talking about places to live other than Koliss-2 recently.”

“You don’t think it’s prudent to plan ahead? I am about to be homeless soon,” Jacob said. “Once we settle this thing happening back home, I think that will about be the time to make myself scarce.”

Tin Man said nothing.

The pair had pulled some strings and got a priority clearance to land on Diwa Outpost. Now, they walked at a leisurely pace through the common spaces on their way to a section at the center of the platform called the Spire. After some discussion, they figured it would be best if Loen Pyx saw them coming rather than trying to catch her by surprise and forcing her to do something rash.

Jacob still had nightmares from one of her experiments. She’d mounted the still-living head of a Cridal named Adysta to a support system and just left him screaming in a room alone. It was one of the most psychotic things he’d ever seen.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” Jacob asked after a moment. “You bothered that I’m relocating?”

“Just wondering where I fit into this scenario.”

That caused Jacob to look at him in surprise. He’d assumed Tin Man would either go back to his people or to Mosler Station. The thought that his own decisions would weigh on the battlesynth had never entered his mind.

“I guess that would depend on what you want out of life,” he said carefully. “If you wanted to partner up on some venture, I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Rather lacking as far as offers go, but I will consider it,” Tin Man said.

“Well, sorry, your Highness,” Jacob said. “I didn’t realize you needed a⁠—”

“Do you notice something strange?” Tin Man stopped. Jacob also stopped and looked around.

“Pretty quiet,” he said softly.

The sections of Diwa outside of the Spire were bustling, lively places where you were you had to pick your way among the throng of people. Except now, they weren’t. There were still people going about their day, and businesses were still open, but there was a subdued feel and far less of the residents out and about than would be expected.

“Excuse me,” Jacob said to a passing pru.

“Yes?” he asked warily.

“Is it always this…dead?” Jacob asked.

“No,” the pru said, looking around. “There was an incident, of sorts. Very messy. Many people have left this part of the station.”

“Ah,” Jacob said. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Of sorts,” Tin Man repeated after the pru was out of earshot.

“Must have been something unpleasant,” Jacob said. “Given the nature of Diwa and its residents, I wonder if Khepri came in and cleaned house.”

“Possible,” Tin Man said. “They are no longer bound by the ConFed charter. If there were dissidents and criminals here they wanted, there would be nothing Diwa could do to stop them.”

They pressed on, still moving out in the open and giving Loen plenty of chances to spot them. Jacob had expected to be intercepted by some of her counterfeit battlesynths, assuming she’d ever made a new batch after Tin Man had destroyed them all. When they crossed into what was considered the Spire, what little foot traffic there had been seemed to vanish altogether.

“It should be just ahead,” Jacob said.

“Something is wrong,” Tin Man said. “My sensors are showing that power in this section is minimal. Likely just emergency power.”

“Interesting,” Jacob murmured as they approached their target. “Didn’t there used to be a door there?”

The entrance to Loen Pyx’s lair hadn’t been ostentatious. It had been designed to be overlooked unless you knew it was there.

Except now, it wasn’t.

Where the heavy armored door that led to the first security portico had been there was now a dark hole with discoloration around the frame edges that was indicative of energy weapons fire. Jacob inspected the edges and whistled as he ran a hand over the deformed alloy.

“They brought in some heavy shit,” he said. “How did they get that all the way up to the Spire without getting caught? I’ve got a peashooter in my waistband, and even that was a pain in the ass to get through customs.”

“Do we go in?” Tin Man asked.

“Guess we should,” Jacob said, pulling his sidearm. “We came all this way, after all.”

Tin Man switched to combat mode and stepped through the ruined security checkpoint and into Loen Pyx’s lair. Jacob switched his ocular implants over to a combination of low-light amplification and mid-wave infrared. He looked around at the damage and was impressed. Someone came through with a grudge.

He noted the articulated cannon mounts on the ceiling, now ruined, that had been added after Tin Man had trashed the space the last time they were there. They moved through the chokepoint that would let them into the lab complex and saw that the damage was less severe.

Loen was a brilliant scientist, but not much of a tactical strategist. She had concentrated her defenses on what she saw as a single point of vulnerability rather than layering them so that they couldn’t be defeated in a single instance. Once the attackers had overcome her fortified entrance, they had free access to the rest of the facility.

“This is simply destruction for its own sake,” Tin Man said. “Not a targeted raid looking to eliminate or capture something specific.”

“How can you tell that?” Jacob asked.

“We have passed three destroyed labs,” Tin Man said. “There was no commonality.”

“Eh, you know how these things go.” Jacob waved him off. “Someone hired outside contractors, and they were a little over-enthusiastic. Half those psychopaths just like killing. They don’t even care about the pay.”

“This was no group of mercs or a PMC,” Tin Man said.

“Proof?”

“Just a gut instinct.”

“You don’t have a gut.”

“Loen Pyx’s facility was hit by a professional military. They came in knowing her security measures and how to defeat them.”

“This Feuriso Dominion we’ve been briefed about?” Jacob asked.

“Unlikely.”

Jacob could tell something was bothering Tin Man, but if he wasn’t saying, then he wasn’t ready to share his theory. The battlesynth didn’t keep information hidden for his own amusement.

The rest of the complex was much like the first few labs they passed. Things were destroyed in ways that made it clear it was a fast, violent strike. They passed a few marks on the floor that were clearly where bodies had been, and even the burned-out husk of an older Series II synth, but other than that, it was just room after room of destroyed equipment.

“There’s nothing in here,” Jacob said in disgust. “Loen was probably one of those bloodstains we passed earlier.”

“We should leave,” Tin Man said. “It is likely this place is being monitored.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing when it was just hanging wide open like that. Someone paid a lot of money to see who might coming looking for her instead of letting Diwa clean this up.”

They carefully backtracked to the entrance. When Jacob saw the ruined doorway, he half-expected an armed party to be waiting for them, but the corridor was largely empty. He and Tin Man abandoned all pretense of blending in and quickly left the Spire. Once out and back into the crowd, they retreated back to the hangar decks as fast as public transport could take them.

“Shit,” Jacob hissed, showing Tin Man his com unit. “Someone just overrode security on Boneshaker.”

“The ship is being stolen?” Tin Man asked.

“Status is still active.” Jacob shook his head. “Primary flight systems are all still in standby. It looks like the only thing is the security system was shut down, and I can’t bring it back up.”

“At least we now know where the attack will take place,” Tin Man said.

“Not sure that makes me feel better all things considered.”

“The ramp is down, but everything looks quiet,” Jacob said as they approached their ship.

They’d spent the last hour patrolling the hangar and outlying areas trying to suss out any potential ambush. Someone had clearly accessed the ship, but it looked like she was empty now. It had taken them two full laps around Boneshaker, getting closer each time, before they were finally close enough to see inside.

“There are many places for them to hide, but I concur,” Tin Man said. “Sensors are not detecting any presence aboard.”

“The usual?” Jacob asked. “You take the service spaces, and I’ll head to the flightdeck?”

“Very well,” Tin Man switched to combat mode.

Jacob pulled his sidearm, shaking his head at the inadequate weapon, and nodded to Tin Man. The battlesynth rushed up the ramp and through the open hatch of the small cargo bay, entering the ship and turning right to clear the engineering space. Jacob charged past and ran to the flightdeck, taking a split second to look into the captain’s quarters and ensure they were clear.

Once he verified the flightdeck was empty, he checked the internal security panel and saw that the system had been manually disabled. He reset the system and waited as it immediately picked up him and Tin Man…and nothing else. They were alone.

“Security system re-initialized,” he said over the intercom. “We’re alone.”

“There has been nothing taken or noticeably sabotaged,” Tin Man said, now standing in the main corridor.

“So, who the hell—” an alarm chirped, cut off, and then they heard the rear ramp boom shut. Tin Man reacted immediately and ran toward the rear of the ship, cannons raised.

“Hold your fire!” a familiar voice shouted. “Please!”

Jacob watched as Loen Pyx came through the hatch with her hands outstretched and empty.

“What the hell are you doing here, Loen?” he asked. “And keep those fucking hands where we can see them.”

“We need to get out of here, Captain,” Loen said, looking genuinely panicked. “We won’t have much time. They’ll know you’re here.”

“Who is they?” Jacob asked.

“You have to trust me! There’s no time,” Loen said.

“You can’t be serious,” Jacob scoffed.

“If you’re not leaving, I’m getting off this ship,” Loen said, turning to leave. Jacob moved to stop her.

“Watch her,” Jacob said to Tin Man. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

He ran back to the flightdeck and brought their primary systems online while calling for departure clearance. Whatever had Loen Pyx so terrified was something he didn’t feel like sticking around for.

Boneshaker had barely lifted off the hangar deck when a threat alarm blared and something slammed into the aft with enough force to turn the ship. On instinct, Jacob engaged the main drive and aimed for open space. His unexpected full-throttle mad dash sent people and equipment flying about the hangar, and their attackers never got off a second shot. Once in space, he kept the power down and ordered a full damage report.

“Give me the report,” Jacob said.

“Hull damage, aft-starboard quarter,” the computer said. “Secondary com array, degraded. Starboard horizontal stabilizer, inoperable.”

“Any issues with the slip-drive?”

“Negative.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Jacob muttered and angled the ship for the nearest mesh-out point. He brought up the tactical sensors and put the weapons and shields into standby. Immediately, he saw a light cruiser coming around Diwa Outpost much faster than the rest of the local traffic and angling for an intercept course. The computer had already bracketed it as a probable threat.

“Identify intercepting ship,” he ordered.

“No match for configuration. Recording data,” the computer said unhelpfully.

Jacob saw that the ship would close within weapons range before he would hit his approved mesh-out point. Normally, he tried to obey local traffic regulations since one of the primary Scout Fleet protocols was to keep a low profile and be unmemorable. But when a capital warship was maneuvering for a firing solution, all bets were off. Boneshaker was tough, but she was no match for a cruiser.

“Captain?” Tin Man asked from the galley where he was covering Loen.

“We’re being chased, but we’re out of range,” Jacob yelled back.

“Go to slip-space now!” Loen shouted. “The cruiser you can see is a distraction! You were meant to spot it!”

“I don’t remember asking for your help.”

Jacob violently swung Boneshaker around so that she was heading straight toward the cruiser and throttled up, watching his tactical display.

“Where are you?” he muttered. “There!”

A ship that was listed as a medium freighter that had been sitting along his flightpath for the original mesh-out point broke away and began pursuing. The computer bracketed the ship and recorded all of its transponder data but nothing else useful.

“That’ll have to do.” Jacob made one final check of the space in front of him and engaged the slip-drive. There was an odd bang from somewhere behind him, but the ship meshed-out as commanded before either ship could get within range.

9

“This is only slightly less humiliating than the chair.”

“Put some parachute pants on and you’d hardly notice,” MG said.

Murph glared at him but continued to walk around inside the hangar. The mobility prosthesis that had come in from Terranovus was a lot more subtle than he’d expected. It almost resembled leg braces, and most of the machinery that made it work was distributed around the girdle that held him upright. He had to take it slow and be careful not to fall since getting back up was a bitch but, for now, he would just be happy he could walk across a room.

“Any word from our guys?” he asked.

“No contact,” Mettler said. “Cap wanted it that way.”

“How did things sound on their end?” Murph asked.

“Good,” MG said. “Captain said to keep our heads down. We’ll be making contact at regular intervals but, for now, we’re not going to risk reaching out while on the base even with secure hyperlink.”

“It’d be nice if Reggie could be on time for once,” Mettler yawned.

Kill Team Blackheart, still operating under their most recent designation, was stood down completely as long as Captain Brown was missing, but nobody on Mosler Station seemed to be in a big hurry to declare him officially missing in action and reassign the team. Commander Weathers had told them to lie low.

MG and Mettler took that as a challenge to dodge the watch officer when they came around looking for volunteers for menial labor details. Whenever someone would come around the hangar, they’d find it empty.

“It would have been nice if at least one of the two ships assigned to this team were actually here and available,” Murph said. “You think Corsair is still on Eshquaria?”

“If they haven’t impounded her yet,” Mettler said. “I’m actually surprised they haven’t started sending requests to Fleet to come get her off their planet.”

“Gentlemen, sorry for the wait,” Reggie said as he walked into the hangar. “You do a recent sweep?”

“Hangar is clean,” MG said. “Nobody has even bothered trying to bug it. Maybe they forgot we exist.”

“I can assure you that’s not the case,” Reggie said. “In fact, that’s why I’m about to get you out of here. Murph, how comfortable are you in that contraption?”

“I’m getting better,” Murph said. “Won’t be running an obstacle course, but I’m at least as mobile as your average eighty-year-old with their original hips and knees.”

“Well…just don’t do anything strenuous,” Reggie said. “Your ride will be here tomorrow morning.”

“Where are we going?” Mettler asked. “And how?”

“Civilian supply ship just arrived yesterday and is almost unloaded,” Reggie said. “It’ll take you back to Terranovus.”

As a semi-covert operation, Scout Fleet kept a lot of its more sensitive acquisitions off the books. Instead of being replenished by the Navy for much of their sensitive hardware, they routed it through shell corporations and private freight. The ships were unloaded to a different location on Kollis-2 that was listed as a survey site for a potential human colony.

The cargo containers came down, and nobody was the wiser that Scout Fleet was ordering weapons and equipment through black market dealers so that nothing they carried on a mission could easily be traced back to Earth.

“Terranovus?” MG asked. “We’re not going to Olympus?”

“Not a chance in hell I’m putting you on the UEAS stronghold without knowing how deep all this goes,” Reggie said. “It’s bad enough Sully is going there even with his limited knowledge of things. No, you’ll be dropping off the grid. You remember Glenn Mitchell?”

“That asshole who tried to strand us in Saabror space?” MG asked.

“He was trying to save his daughter,” Murph said. “I’ll cut him some slack for that. What’s he got to do with this?”

“He and Captain Brown have stayed close since the Saabror mission,” Reggie said. “He’s agreed to help us.”

“Help us how, exactly?” Mettler asked.

“He’s going to get you back to Earth without any official travel records,” Reggie said. “Once there, you’re going to try and get a warning to certain people that leadership, perhaps at the very top, has been compromised.”

“Why do I have a feeling you know more than you’re telling us?” MG asked.

“You’ll be briefed…but not here,” Reggie said. “Murph, you up for this?”

“I can help with coms and logistics if nothing else,” Murph said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Then, keep your heads down for the next couple days, and I’ll let you know when and where to be,” Reggie said.

Once he left, the others sat and stared at each other, nobody speaking for several minutes.

“Given that it’s Reg, I’m sure he has a network across the entire UAES and probably within the intel community,” Murph finally said. “He knows something, but he can’t tell us. At least not yet.”

“If they replaced someone like the admiral, they almost certainly have fakes in other positions higher up,” Mettler agreed. “How high does it go?”

“I get the feeling that’s what he wants us to find out,” Murph said.

“Think Reggie is a fake?” MG asked.

Murph thought about that for a moment, then shrugged.

“If he is, we’re already screwed. Just proceed like he’s the real deal.”

“Why us?” MG asked. “We’re not exactly specialists in that area.”

“Two reasons,” Murph said. “One, we’re available and trustworthy. Two, we’re expendable. If we’re caught, we’re just a bunch of low-level rogue operators from a Scout Team that is notorious for operating well outside the rules.”

“Cheery thought,” Mettler said. “You think Reg would do us dirty like that?”

“It’s not like that,” Murph said, the actuators in his prosthesis whining as he turned. “Reg would never toss us into the meat grinder if he had any other options. My best guess is he’s working with an underground network with limited resources and options. He’s desperate not heartless.”

“Welp,” MG said, walking over to the fridge against the far wall, “since we’re not leaving right now, I’m going to get drunk.”

Reggie knew he was racing a clock, but the problem was he didn’t know what it was set to.

His contacts on Olympus and Earth had verified his suspicions that other leaders had been replaced, including Fleet Admiral Nathan Grant, supreme commander for Orion Sector. That made up the bulk of Earth’s military power. The people who had made these discoveries had risked much trying to seek out people to raise the alarm. Given Scout Fleet’s unique location and operational status, it had fallen to Reggie to handle most of the coordination.

What was worse, he was without his most potent weapon. Captain Brown might rub many the wrong way and seem to be a wildcard to senior leadership, but Reggie knew him better than that. The Marine augment got results. He tore into missions with reckless abandon thanks to a chip on his shoulder and a mountain of daddy issues he didn’t even realize he carried. His need to prove to the universe that he was better than Jason Burke in every objective way drove him well beyond what mere mortal men could endure.

Murph was a brilliant intelligence operator, but he was now disabled. Mettler was good but not trained for the sort of work he would be asked to do. MG was a nightmare when it came to doing covert work. He was not a subtle man. He genuinely believed that most problems in life were solvable through superior firepower.

But this was who he had. He didn’t dare try and go to any of the other Scout Team leaders. Without definitive proof, they might do something they felt was right, like going directly to Webb, and end up bringing down the whole fragile alliance Reggie was working with. He needed eyes on Earth, and he couldn’t risk reaching out to anyone he hadn’t seen directly in the last few weeks.

His com unit chirped as he walked back to his vehicle.

“Commander Weathers,” he answered, already knowing who it was.

“Commander, I am glad you are still awake,” Webb’s voice came over the speaker. The fake Webb didn’t seem to sleep very much and would reach out at all hours with odd requests.

“Of course, Admiral. What can I do for you, sir?”

“I’m in the Ops center, and we just got a hit on our wayward augment and his battlesynth buddy,” Webb said. “Apparently, they were at Pinnacle Station. Blew up a currency exchange and then disappeared. Any reason you know of that would put them there?”

“No, sir,” Reggie said. “Kill Team Blackheart is currently inactive mostly due to the fact Captain Brown is listed as missing in action. Would you like me to come in and begin working up a report with the new intel?”

“I would appreciate it,” Webb said.

Reggie jumped into a small, open-air car that was popular on the base and sped through the flightline’s automated security gate and headed back toward the admin complex.

The drive was a short one, and he was pulling up to the Ops center less than five minutes after leaving the hangar. Since Scout Fleet was running operations across the entire quadrant that required support, the nerve center was fully staffed around the clock. Walking into the building in the middle of the night felt no different than during the day shift.

“Commander,” the desk officer greeted him. “The admiral is in SCIF Two.”

“Thanks,” Reggie said as he passed through the security scanners.

He had to pass through yet another security portico, this one manned by a Marine, before he was let into the secure section where real-time field data was being viewed.

“Commander,” Webb said as he walked into the SCIF. “What do you think?”

Reggie went to the large wall monitor and made some pretense of looking at the high-resolution images they’d received from Pinnacle. There was no denying it was Jacob Brown, but he had no idea why he would have gone to a currency exchange and less of an idea why he would blow it up.

“It’s definitely him,” he said when he felt Webb looking at him. “I don’t see Tin Man.”

“The battlesynth was spotted in a different section, also moving away from the explosion.”

“We’re certain of the identity, sir?” Reggie asked. “What I mean is⁠—”

“It was Combat Unit 707,” Webb said. “Pattern recognition was already run.”

“I see,” Reggie said carefully. “I’m not sure what you need me for on this, sir.”

“I would like you to personally take charge of tracking down the augment and battlesynth,” Webb said. At that comment, a few of the intel analysts turned and gave each other looks. Webb—the real Webb—was known to have a certain affinity for Captain Brown and often referred to him by his first name. Using a term like augment was both confusing and alarming for them. Most had no idea what it meant.

“That’s not normally something I would be tasked with, Admiral, but I would be happy to get back into the field if that’s what you need of me,” Reggie said.

“Not field work,” Webb said. “You’re too important to me here. I just need someone I trust heading up the team who will be doing it. You have permission to pull from any Scout Fleet assets you might need.” He looked like he was going to lean in close before looking around and changing his mind. “Give us the room.”

The analysts and operators all pulled their access badges from their terminals and left the SCIF without a word. When the last one filed out, a Marine from Webb’s detail closed the door but didn’t lock it.

“We’ve worked together for a long time, haven’t we?” Webb asked.

“Yes, sir,” Reggie said.

“I need you to trust me,” Webb said. “I’ve been given a specific tasking, and I can’t do it without you.”

“You can count on me, sir.”

“We need the rogue augment. I need him subdued, in custody, and ready for transport. How feasible is that with the assets we have here on Mosler?”

Reggie took a moment to digest what he was hearing. Whoever this Webb was working for, he wasn’t just here as a placeholder. Someone wanted Jacob specifically. Or did they? Something felt…off. There were more practical and expedient ways to track down a single human than creating a lifelike fake of his commanding officer.

“It’s doable,” Reggie said, playing along. “I’ll have to activate Buzzkill and Deadeye. Captain Brown can be taken by surprise as he won’t suspect that his friends might be after him. I can begin prepping first thing tomorrow if I have your go-ahead.”

“Get started,” Webb said.

10

“Start talking.”

“I see your manners haven’t improved much, Captain,” Loen Pyx said.

“We’re not friends, Loen,” Jacob said. “You’re a stowaway…technically. That means I’d be within my rights to toss you out the airlock.”

“We’re in slip-space.”

“Then, I’ll drop out of slip-space, toss you out, and then be on my merry way,” Jacob hissed. “Now…talk. Who hit your lab?”

“Someone who was afraid I knew too much,” Loen said. “You remember my business venture providing people lifelike simulacra of influential political members? Apparently, they found a new supplier. Someone working with a new type of biotech I couldn’t match.”

“I thought you were a genius,” Jacob said.

“I am. A highly specialized genius who doesn’t work in genetic manipulation,” Loen said. “Do you even know what that is, halfwit?”

“You might want to be nicer given your precarious position at the moment,” Tin Man said.

“Forgive me,” Loen said. “It’s been a trying time.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jacob said. “So…what happened?”

“As you remember, the units I was commissioned to create were cybernetic in nature,” Loen said. “They would pass a cursory inspection, but bio scans and DNA testing? Not a chance. I’d messed around with different types of synthetic skin that could be impregnated with DNA or fool a bio scanner, but I hadn’t the time before a competitor perfected their fully biotic variants.

“During the prototype stage of this new unit, they brought me two so I could see if a type of cybernetic brain I’d been working on could be adapted so they could work the kinks out of the body systems in parallel to their own programmable organic brain.”

“Did this cybernetic brain happen to look like a miniaturized version of a synth master processing matrix?” Jacob asked.

“How could you possibly know that?” Loen asked.

“Lucky guess,” Jacob said. “Go on.”

“You can probably figure out the rest,” Loen said with a sigh. “My competitor was able to perfect their methodology, and our mutual employer doesn’t like loose ends. I perhaps underestimated their reach and capability. I thought I was safe aboard Diwa, but that was a mistaken assumption. So…what were you doing there?”

“How did you know we were there?” Tin Man asked.

“I escaped the lab attack, of course. Then, I waited to see who might show up. When it was you, I saw a chance to escape.”

Jacob looked at Tin Man and shrugged.

“We were here because we suspect that Admiral Webb, my boss, has been replaced by an avatar,” he said. “You can probably guess why we came to see you first given we caught you with a copy of President Weinhaus in your little house of horrors back there.”

“What did you do to my Carolyn, Captain Brown?” Loen asked. “Is she sitting in a prison cell? Given to the Cridal as a peace offering? Did you just kill her and take her back to your superiors as a trophy?”

“I thought you didn’t care what happened to your creations.”

“Maybe I do.”

Jacob stared at her for a long moment trying to judge if she was being sincere or just deflecting.

“I let her go,” he said. “After you released the behavioral controls, she was no longer a threat. I figured she’d already served enough time in the prison you and others created for her.”

Loen looked genuinely shocked at this.

“That is…a surprise,” she said. “Compassion? From a human warrior? How unlikely.”

“Says the woman who stuck someone’s head in a box to go insane just to see what would happen,” Jacob said. “While I believe what you’ve told me so far, it’s hardly enough for me to bother landing the ship first before asking you to get out.”

“I can help you find my competitors in exchange for being dropped off at a location of my choosing,” Loen said.

“What do you know about them?” Jacob asked.

“I know that their operation is small. It’s streamlined and efficient to the point that it requires few people and a miniscule footprint.” Loen smiled. “Very easy to hide. I also happen to know where they currently are, as well as where they will likely be next. Is that something valuable to you?”

“Where do you want to go?” Jacob sighed.

“You ever heard of a planet called Or’dan?”

“Nope.”

“That’s where we’re going. Take me there, and I’ll give you everything I have,” Loen said. “I have additional data that’s on a remote server we can access through slip-com.”

“What do you think?” Jacob asked Tin Man.

“I think we are going to Or’dan.”

“Good. Now, it’s your fault if this doesn’t work out.”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Shot to shit. Now, I get to ride around in this thing.”

Glenn Mitchell looked over Murph’s mobility prosthesis and struggled to keep the pitying look off his face. Out of everyone out of Scout Team Obsidian—sorry, Kill Team Blackheart—Alonso Murphy was the one Mitchell had the most in common with. They had similar training, backgrounds in intelligence and not a huge amount of enthusiasm for working with Marines most of the time.

“Looks…fun.”

“Kiss my ass,” Murph said. “So, this is where you live now?”

Mitchell had settled outside of a small settlement on Terranovus called Valence. It was mostly French immigrants who had decided to try their luck on a world that was owned and operated by Earth rather than take their chances in any of the frontier colonies or the Saabror Protectorate. It was a small, obscure town where Mitchell and his daughter could live a fairly normal life.

“Yep,” Mitchell said.

“It’s nice. How much land?”

“Fifty acres.”

“What?!” Murph choked.

“Land is really cheap on Terranovus,” Mitchell laughed. “You’d be amazed what I paid. Anyway…this everybody?”

“All who are left,” Mettler said. “Two and a half of us here, the captain and Tin Man out…somewhere, and Sully heading to Olympus to start command school.”

“Ouch,” Mitchell said.

“Why are you doing this, Glenn?” Murph asked. “You fought to get your daughter and come here to live in obscurity. Why risk all that?”

“That should tell you how critical this is,” Mitchell said. “If we don’t stop this, not even rural Terranovus will be safe.”

“I guess that brings up my next question,” MG said. “What is actually happening? We’re not being told anything.”

“That was intentional,” Mitchell said. “Information within the network is being tightly controlled. If a cell goes down, they won’t be able to discover just how much we know. Get some rest, and I’ll fill you in tomorrow. What I can tell you is that what we’re up against is far more insidious than One World and with implications far beyond Earth.”

“Ah,” MG said. “So, no pressure.”

Mitchell just gave him a humorless smile and walked past, waving for them to follow. He led them out to a bunkhouse on the property where they’d be staying. After making sure none of them were carrying any com gear, he left them to their own devices. He could tell that Murph’s stamina was nearing its end and that the injured man needed rest but was too prideful to say so. He saw that Mettler was skillfully caring for his friend without making it too obvious while MG appeared to be oblivious.

Once he was certain they wouldn’t need anything until the next day, he set the security system and walked back to the main house. There, he was met by someone else, this person not as happy to see him as the Marines had been.

“Why are you doing this?” a tearful Gabby asked him. She was in her early teens and had become quiet skilled at manipulating him.

“It’s only temporary, sweetie,” Mitchell said. “I just need to know you’re safe while we handle a few things. I told you this could happen if you decided to stay with me. My life can be…complicated.”

“It’s not fair!” she yelled, walking back up the stairs to her room.

“No,” Mitchell sighed. “No, sweetie, it isn’t.”

Once she was back up in her room sulking, he walked over to a bookcase and pulled on the hidden latch. The bookcase silently swung aside to reveal a hidden staircase that led down to a section of basement that didn’t show up on the drawings of the building registered with the municipality.

He closed the door behind him, activated the snooping countermeasures, and descended into a spacious work area. After getting comfortable in one of the seats, he activated a hyperlink terminal and waited as it made connection.

“They’ve arrived?” a voice said without preamble.

“Safe and sound,” Mitchell said. “Murphy is in worse shape than we thought, but the other two are fine. I’ll prep them for transport to Earth. How much do you want them knowing?”

“Your discretion,” the voice said. “Do you still have misgivings about this?”

“Desperate times, desperate measures. We’re running out of time and options. If that team was at full strength, I’d feel much better about it.”

“The other two?”

“Still in the wind,” Mitchell said. “And, for now, I think it’s safer that way.”

“I’m not so certain, but I will defer to your judgment for now,” the voice said. “The network has limited resources on Earth, and this group could be the wildcard we’ve been needing.”

“A couple of Marines, huh?” Mitchell snorted. “We’re in worse shape than I thought.”

“Keep me posted.”

The channel terminated, and the hyperlink terminal automatically purged its buffers so that, if captured, there would be nothing to learn from it. Mitchell leaned back and exhaled, not at all happy at how deeply he’d been pulled into the network but realizing that the situation was bad enough that nobody with his connections and skills could afford to sit on the bench.

He would have felt better if Jacob Brown was with his team. While the captain wasn’t the most subtle intelligence asset he’d ever seen, his ability to get results was undeniable. Brown seemed to have a preternatural talent for being in the right place at the right time. With that in mind, perhaps he was actually where he was supposed to be right now…wherever that was.

11

“This is seriously where you want dropped off at?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Loen asked indignantly.

Jacob looked out the forward canopy at the planet Or’dan. It wasn’t what he was expecting.

“It’s a little…muddy,” Jacob said. “We’re not even parked on a paved landing pad.”

“The whole planet isn’t this rural, you simpleton,” Loen sighed. “We’re just here to retrieve something, and then we can be on our way. Once I’m secure in my new residence, I can give you the information I promised, and then we’ll part ways for now.”

“For now?” Tin Man asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? We seem to keep running into each other as if we’re destined to remain in each other’s lives,” Loen said.

Jacob chose not to reply to that and instead went to his quarters to retrieve his tactical harness and weapons. Or’dan didn’t have any restrictions on personal armament, something he was thankful for given how many people seemed to be shooting at him these days.

“Long walk from here?” he called back to Loen.

“We will need to procure transportation,” she said. “There are vehicles for hire just outside of the terminal area.”

“At least the landing fees were cheap,” Jacob said as he stepped off the ramp and into the mud. “What the hell is this airfield used for, anyway?”

“It’s an overflow field for the main port,” Loen said. “In the winter, this is a popular recreational area. Lots of wealthy tourists arrive on private craft, and the less wealthy of them have their shiny transports parked out here.”

“Sounds like Aspen,” Jacob muttered.

“Aspen?” Tin Man asked.

“It’s in Colorado,” Jacob said. “On Earth.”

As if to reinforce Loen’s claim that the area was a playground for the rich, the rental vehicles were newer model anti-grav cars with luxurious interiors. The rental process was completely automated so Jacob was able to pay with one of their dummy accounts and wait for a few minutes while the vehicle drove itself out of the holding lot and in front of the building.

Jacob hopped into the back where he could cover Loen with his weapon and motioned for her to get moving once Tin Man had settled into the seat beside her. She looked back at Jacob, and then at the gun he had loosely trained on her.

“Is that necessary?” she asked.

“Probably not,” Jacob shrugged, “but I’d suggest not doing anything that might startle me, if you take my meaning.”

“Such a brutish man,” Loen said in disgust as she entered their destination into the vehicles navigation system. Once she confirmed it, the drive lifted smoothly from the ground and whisked them away from the airfield with hardly a sound.

The landscape they flew through was undeveloped and incredibly beautiful. It looked a bit like the foothills region in Colorado, and watching it glide by made Jacob a tad homesick. Despite understating on an intellectual level why it was necessary for him to leave and likely never return, emotionally, he was struggling with the fact that he would never go home again.

Two hours passed by without incident, and by the time the vehicle slowed and pulled off the main roadway, they were in a deeply isolated area. Jacob perked up his senses and sat up straighter, ready for Loen to pull some stunt.

“It would have made more sense to land the ship out here given how remote it is,” Tin Man remarked.

“Calm down, the both of you,” Loen said. “I can feel the tension rising between you. The reason we couldn’t bring the ship here is that air traffic is closely monitored and my friend appreciates his privacy.”

“Wait…you have a friend?” Jacob asked.

“Cute.”

The vehicle wound around on an unpaved, narrow lane. There was a low-frequency hum from the grav-lift as it rode at its maximum height to clear potential obstacles. When it finally pulled to a stop and landed, Jacob couldn’t see any obvious structures in the fading evening light.

“You may keep your weapons,” Loen said. “But please be respectful. Trust me…if he wants to, he could kill us all before even the big guy here could get a shot off.”

“Let’s go,” Jacob said.

They climbed out of the car, and Loen led them down a path that looked like it went nowhere, but after crossing through the tree line, his ocular implants picked out the outline of a door carved into the rock face of the formation to their left.

“Just wait here,” Loen said. “He knows we’re here.”

“I do indeed.” A hologram of an elderly pru appeared in front of them. “Of course, you weren’t exactly subtle. I saw your luxury vehicle coming several kilometers before the turnoff.”

“Saakin,” Loen said with a slight smile. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“I guess you’re here for it,” Saakin said without returning the smile. “You didn’t need to come with guards.”

“They’re not guards,” she said. “They were my method of escape.”

“Not my concern.” The hologram flickered and died. A second later, the door in the rock face opened and a warm light spilled out. Loen held up a hand when Jacob took a step toward it.

“This will just be a moment,” Loen said. “Let me go in alone.”

“Five minutes,” Jacob said.

“Then, you’re coming in after me?”

“Then, we’re leaving. With or without you.”

Loen walked through the door and let her eyes adjust to the light.

“Saakin,” she said when the older pru turned to look at her.

“Daughter,” he said, turning back to the holographic fire dancing in an ornate pit in front of him.

“So, we’re back to acknowledging the reality of our relationship…Father?”

“I’m too tired to remain angry at you, Loen,” Saakin sighed. “I still hate what you became and that you hurt people with the things you do, but you’re still my daughter.”

“I suppose we’re both bitter disappointments,” Loen said, walking closer. “Just so you know, I didn’t originally set out to hurt people. But one compromise begets another and, before you realize it, you’re able to cross any line to get what you want.”

“And do you have all that you want, Loen?”

“I have even less than I need these days. My compromises have come back to haunt me, and I now need to hide myself for a time.”

“I heard,” Saakin said. “Messy business. What could you possibly have been thinking getting mixed up in Cridal politics in that way?”

“I was thinking that one side was willing to pay me half a billion credits,” Loen said wryly.

“I cannot protect you any longer,” Saakin said. “My influence back home has waned. It’s all but gone, to be honest. Since the Dominion has risen to take the ConFed’s place, the old guard is quickly being retired or silenced. Kheprian nationalists are not tolerated, and anyone speaking out about the Dominion is pushed aside.”

“I had no intention of going back home,” Loen said. “They won’t find me.”

“It’s over there,” Saakin motioned toward a silver case with a handle near the archway that led farther into the dwelling. “It represents the last I am able to offer you, my dear.”

“I’m…happy to see you this one last time, Father,” Loen said softly. “I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”

“We are who we are, Loen,” Saakin said, standing and fully facing her. Both his legs were cybernetic. Loen had built them many years ago, and she noted he had removed the outer coverings, leaving the mechanicals exposed. “I would encourage you to not seek revenge for what they did to you but instead find a quiet place and try to build a new life for yourself. The Dominion is bad enough. The people you’ve crossed? They are ruthless beyond anything you can imagine.”

“I will bear that in mind,” Loen said respectfully. She bowed to her father, grabbed the case, and quickly left. Her ability to control her emotions was slipping, and she would not let Saakin see her weep.

“So…that’s it?” Jacob asked, nodding to the case.

“That’s it,” Loen said quietly. “All there is for me.”

Jacob had climbed into the front seat of the vehicle and reconfigured them so that everyone was facing each other. He pulled out his com unit, paired to his neural implant, and downloaded the images his ocular implants had caught at his command. Once they were on the device, he activated the hyperlink connection and logged into the NIS Database through the Blackheart account.

Once he was connected to the AI, he sent the images of the hologram Loen had been speaking to, as well as the name Saakin. The new system would crawl through every available source of intel they had to begin placing the name and face. He could just ask Loen directly, of course, but he was certain she would just lie to him.

“Where to next?” he asked.

“Next, we will be going to Reelan-4,” Loen said. “Once there, we will part ways. I will have my freedom, and you will have the information you need. I must warn you, Captain, you might not like where this leads. Perhaps you should do as I intend and find a quiet corner of the galaxy to hunker down in.”

“I think you know me better than that,” Jacob said.

“You’re out over a ledge, Captain,” Loen said. “You’re not fighting for what you believe you are.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Jacob snapped. “Just keep up your side of this deal and we’ll be free of each other soon enough.”

“I tried,” she sighed dramatically to Tin Man.

She was blessedly silent for the rest of the trip back to the muddy airfield, but her words had burrowed into Jacob’s mind and were now filling him with anxiety and doubt. He knew she was probably screwing with him either to keep him off balance or just for her own amusement. But something about the way she said it made him think this could very well be more than he was able to handle.

12

Jacob was sound asleep in his quarters when his com unit chimed.

“This better be good,” he grumbled, grabbing it and seeing what the alert was.

SUBJECT IDENTIFIED

Saakin Acronen Pyx Madicut

Former Deputy Minister of Kheprian Intelligence

Former Parliamentary Member, Khepri

Former Upper Chamber Councilman, ConFed

Current status…unknown

Current location…unknown

The list of Saakin’s accomplishments and accolades went on and on. Jacob, recognizing the name Pyx and suspecting what he’d find, scrolled down and confirmed that he’d had three offspring, one of them a daughter named Loen. He also downloaded her file while he was connected to the NIS system for later review, and then began looking through Saakin’s past to see if he could determine why he was hiding in a cave on some unimportant Tier 2 world.

Intel on Saakin was scant. Besides his public persona and the record of his time in civil service, there wasn’t much to go on. He had led a very private life for someone so high-profile. Putting the dossier aside for a moment, Jacob checked the background of the other two daughters. He found that they had died at the same time on Miressa Prime. The date was shortly before Saakin had resigned from the council and disappeared. Intrigued, Jacob tried to look up what the cause of death was, but there was nothing.

“Guess I’m awake now,” he said, rolling off his rack and pulling on a T-shirt.

He slipped out into the main corridor and saw that Tin Man was on the flightdeck as expected. The galley lights were also up, indicating that someone was either in there or had been recently. When he walked back, he found Loen sitting at the table, staring into a mug of tea.

“Can’t sleep, Captain?” Loen asked.

“I never sleep well on a ship,” Jacob said, getting his own mug and prepping the machine for coffee.

“You picked the wrong line of work it would seem.”

“How about you? What are you going to do now? I assume you’re not going to be propping up another research and production lab.”

“Are we having a friendly conversation now, Captain?” Loen asked coldly.

“We’re stuck on a small ship together for another three days,” Jacob pointed out. “It’s tough to be a complete asshole the entire time. Especially since, like I said, I don’t sleep much.”

Loen actually laughed at that before the hardness returned to her face.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said. “For now, just hide. Lot of people out there would like to get at me for things I’ve been directly and indirectly responsible for. What about you? Assuming you live much longer, you’ll soon find yourself a man without a people, without a home. What does your future hold?”

“Who the hell knows.” Jacob sat down across from her. “I know I don’t want to fight anymore. There’s got to be something I can do that doesn’t involve killing people.”

“I wish you luck with that,” Loen said. “But I don’t have much hope you’ll get your wish.”

“Who was Saakin?” Jacob asked. “What I mean is, who is he to you?”

“Someone from a past long gone,” Loen said, standing abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, Captain…I suddenly find I’d rather be alone.”

She left her mug on the table and walked by him, closing the hatch to the starboard berthing behind her. Jacob reflected on the interaction. He’d definitely found a soft spot and was pushing on it. There was something about her family’s past that she wanted to keep buried, likely even from herself.

But did it matter? The mission wasn’t to delve the depths of Loen Pyx’s psychological trauma. After poking around the edges, he didn’t think that anything that had happened on Or’dan pertained to their current situation. He’d drop the mad scientist off as promised, hopefully gain some actionable intel, and then be on his way.

“Captain, there is a priority hyperlink channel request coming in,” Tin Man said over the intercom. “It’s from Mosler Station.”

Jacob stood up and went forward, wondering if there was some emergency that would make his men break protocol, disobey his orders, and contact him from a monitored UAES hyperlink terminal.

“Any idea who it is?” Jacob asked before slipping into the com alcove.

“Only the base ident was transmitted,” Tin Man said.

Jacob selected the terminal with the blinking light, noting that it was Boneshaker’s primary terminal that was registered with Fleet Ops, and froze when he saw who was looking back at him.

“Well, well…you’ve been busy, haven’t you, Captain?” Marcus Webb asked. His voice was identical to what Jacob knew to be his mentor, but there was something…off. The eyes darker, the demeanor more sinister somehow.

“Just living the dream,” Jacob said. “How about you?”

“Is that really how you address a superior officer?”

“Of course not. Just the cheap fakes.”

Webb laughed. It was a humorless, mechanical sound.

“So, you think you know what’s going on. Is that it?”

“You’re not denying it? Where is the real Marcus Webb?” Jacob asked.

“Hardly important,” Webb said. “Was is important is that I now know you’re aboard a certain ship. I want you and the battlesynth back here immediately. Defy me, and your fellow Obsidian teammates will suffer.”

“You might not want that,” Jacob said. “While I’m out here, following the real Admiral Webb’s last order, I’m of no threat to you. If I return? You won’t be able to control the situation.”

“Is that what you think?” Webb laughed again. “Just come back here and spare your comrades, Captain Brown. Otherwise, whatever happens to them is on your head.”

The channel unexpectedly closed as Jacob formulated his next line of attack.

“Interesting,” Loen said from the hatchway.

“In what way?” Jacob asked. He hadn’t heard her come up to look in on the conversation.

“Their fakes are biologically perfect, but their cognitive functions leave something to be desired,” she said. “He killed the channel because the conversation went in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He had no ability to think with agility and adjust to you.”

“His information was also out of date,” Jacob said. “We haven’t been called Obsidian for almost nine months now. Did you notice that Tin Man?”

“I did,” Tin Man said over the intercom. He’d been monitoring the conversation from the flightdeck.

“Your analysis?” Jacob asked Loen.

“The biological brain they’ve developed to fool the scanners has problems,” she said, her eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s likely it needs to be reprogrammed, so to speak, often. Possibly even at regular intervals. This vulnerability tells us two things. First, it will have a handler. There will be someone around Admiral Webb who is a new face. Someone pretending to be an aide who never leaves his side.”

“And the second?” Jacob asked.

“It also means the real Admiral Webb is still alive. They would need to keep the original in case they needed to make another copy.”

“You believe they copied his brain?” Tin Man asked.

“Portions of it,” Loen corrected. “It’s…complicated. They wouldn’t be able to create it like an actual brain. It will be a bio-computer complete with re-writable partitions. They have almost certainly developed the ability to scan a live subject like the real Marcus Webb, and then upload a memory database that the computer can access.”

“What are the advantages of that?” Jacob asked.

“Only the ability to fool bio scanners,” Loen said. “From a technical standpoint, it seems like a liability.”

“Do you think you could develop a way for a scanner to pick up on which was one of these bio-computers?” Jacob asked.

“That’s not part of our deal,” Loen said with a smirk. “But could I? Almost certainly if I had an example to work with.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jacob hissed, realizing that he now needed her, and she knew it. She was in a position of power over him, and he hated that.

“Indeed,” Loen said, smiling widely now. “My plans really had been to just disappear, Captain, but now I must say I’m intrigued at the prospect of ruining the business of the people who just put me out of business.”

“I’m sure you are,” Jacob said. “But can I afford it?”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of⁠—”

“No bullshit, Loen. I’m not going to promise some future favor to you. We negotiate in good faith on a price now or I’ll figure out another way.”

“You don’t have the time to handle it another way, Captain,” Loen said. “But fine…we’ll do it your way. I might even be inclined to work cheaply as a way of saying thank you for letting Carolyn go.”

Jason blinked at that. Carolyn Whitney really was a weak spot Loen had. Interesting.

“Tell me what you need.”

“What did they do to you?”

Marcus looked on in concern as Similan struggled to climb up onto his bunk. The guards had dragged him back into the detention block and threw him into his cell after he’d been missing for nearly a full day.

“Besides beating me senseless? I could not say,” Similan said. “They appeared to be quite interested in my head. Multiple scans.”

“They’re making a copy of you,” Admiral Grant spoke up. “The initial scan can take days I’ve been told.”

“Who the hell told you that?” Webb asked.

“Welford would get chatty when I was first brought here. Once you arrived? Less so,” Grant said. “I’m actually not sure if he’s the real Michael Welford or not. I only met the man once before when I was still a captain.”

Webb thought about that for a moment, recalling Welford’s current appearance. That ugly, misshapen mess of a head was definitely the original one Jason Burke had bashed into a desk and not a copy. But why? If these people had the technical know-how to build a whole new, functional, adult human that walked and talked like the original, why go through all the trouble to keep Welford alive? It couldn’t have been an easy proposition given the state he was in, although he was pissed beyond all measure that Burke had been sloppy enough to leave the matter in doubt before leaving that office.

“Then, they will be taking it to Eshquaria where it will likely be welcomed into my master’s inner circle,” Similan said, clearly distressed. “Such a creature could kill T’Cali Amon, then itself, and the matter would never be investigated.”

“What good would that do?” Grant asked.

“Minister Amon is not just some bureaucrat,” Webb said. “He’s a linchpin figure in the Upper Orion Region. Without him, the Eshquarian Resurgence would stall and the empire would be vulnerable to emerging superpowers like the Dominion and whoever these assholes are working for.”

“An astute observation, Admiral,” Similan said.

“You don’t think they’re Dominion?” Grant asked.

“Too subtle,” Similan said. “The Feuriso Dominion is still helmed by Miressa Prime and shares much of the arrogance and heavy handedness of the old ConFed it replaced.”

The conversation died, and they fell silent. A bit later, Webb could hear Grant snoring. He was lost in his own thoughts when the outer door slammed open and Welford came hobbling up with guards in tow.

“Michael,” Webb greeted him. “Don’t take this personally, but would you consider wearing a bag over your head when you come in here? You’re not feeding us that much, and I can’t risk losing my lunch when that face of yours appears without warning.”

“When the times comes that you are no longer needed, Marcus, I will be sure to kill you myself,” Welford said.

“As I recall, you never had much of a stomach for direct action, Mike,” Webb said. “You’d hide in the shadows and behind people like Margaret Jansen, leaving the real fighting to other, braver men.”

“Save your breath, Marcus,” Michael said. “You were never good at this, and you still aren’t. If you think you can get me flustered by insulting me or attacking my insecurities, you’re wasting your time.”

“I’m mostly just bored and wanted to make sure you knew that I think you’re an absolute piece of shit,” Webb said. “Since I’m not walking out of here alive, why would I care about your evil plan?”

“Take him to scan room two,” Welford said to the guards. “Full update. Send it to the field team immediately.”

The guards waited until Welford left before opening the cell and motioning Webb out into the corridor. He shrugged and walked out, holding his hands out so they could slap on the restraints. The two cuffs went on his wrists, self-tightened, and then slammed together into each other, binding his hands. They walked out as a group, the guards not bothering to keep too close of an eye on him, which told Webb that, even if he managed to escape them, there was probably no place to go after that.

The walk to the scan room was short. Webb was directed to sit in the chair, his cuffs releasing, and then slamming down into the armrests, pinning him to the seat. He didn’t struggle as they slipped the headgear on as experience had taught him physical resistance was more pain than it was worth. But he had discovered one trick that let him fight back.

The machine was trying to scan memory imprints from his brain. The more scans it took, the more accurate it became as it built a profile for each victim. It was groundbreaking tech that Webb hadn’t even imagined was possible even with all the things he’d seen since coming to space. What he found was that if he focused on a memory that had powerful emotions attached to it, something that could really get his heart rate up, and play that on a loop in his head, it would degrade the scan. So far, his success rate was nearly absolute. They’d scanned him the first time while he was unconscious and, every time since then, he’d been able to thwart the machine.

They’d not figured out how he was doing it, but Welford’s frustration was becoming palpable. Webb guessed that his copy on Mosler Station was performing poorly as it didn’t have a complete scan to work with. Reggie Weathers would have certainly seen right through the thing’s act, but he wasn’t sure what his trusted aide could even do about it.

“We’re getting the same variance errors,” one of the aliens said. He was a technician of the same species as the guards. “Are you sure this one wasn’t given a head injury during capture?”

“I wasn’t on the capture team,” the guard said. “But when he was brought in, they said it went without incident.”

“This is the sixteenth human we’ve done,” the tech said. “This should be completely straightforward but, for some reason, this one keeps giving us problems.”

“Just get what you can,” the guard said. “Field team is waiting for it.”

Webb smiled to himself and redoubled his efforts to focus on high-emotion memories.

“Damn!” the tech hissed. “Now, he’s dropping out of sync. I don’t understand why this one is so much trouble.”

13

“Hide all the good shit! Customs is boarding us!”

“The armory and your personal weaponry are already secure,” Tin Man said. “The ship is otherwise clean.”

Reelan-4 was a beautiful Tier 1 world just along the border of what had been the Nimpe-Tral Alliance, a group of six worlds that had collectively been given ConFed membership status. After the collapse of the ConFed, the alliance also split apart, with four of the worlds deciding to remain independent while the remaining two, including Reelan-4, had entered into agreements to be vassal worlds of Khepri. For wealthy, developed worlds with little to no military capacity, it seemed like the smarter move to remain attached to the Pillar World that did.

Jacob had landed at a small feeder starport at Loen’s request and was immediately told to remain aboard the ship until told otherwise. Boneshaker was registered as a civilian vessel, long ago decommissioned from service within the Eshquarian Imperial Navy, but she was still a combat vessel by type. That meant additional scrutiny and searches whenever they landed on a highly developed world. The fact Boneshaker looked like she had either very recently been pulled out of a salvage yard, been through a battle, or both didn’t help.

“This is why I miss Corsair,” he said over his shoulder. “We never put up with this shit when we land her someplace nice.”

Corsair was the original ship assigned to Scout Team Obsidian when Jacob joined the service. She was a state-of-the-art reconnaissance ship with advanced combat capability, all in a sleek package that made her appear to be just another VIP transport. The ship had been designed and built by Ark-Light Defense on Earth and had gone through one major refit as new technologies came online. She was one of a kind. Jacob assumed she was back on Koliss-2 after their last operation, sitting in the hangar collecting dust while his team sat around and did much the same.

“They are here,” Tin Man called.

“Lowering ramp,” Jacob said. He pulled up their fraudulent registry and flight logs for inspection and leaned back to wait.

It didn’t take long for the armed party of four to make their way up to the galley, jabbering about how nice the ship looked on the inside compared to the outside. They made some pretense of poking about and then asked for passenger credentials. They read Tin Man’s, and then Loen’s, which triggered an immediate response. Two of them raised their weapons while the other two put Loen in restraints and dragged her from the galley, shouting orders. Tin Man looked at Jacob, but Jacob shook his head and motioned for him to stand fast.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked loudly.

“Your passenger has a detain on sight alert in our system,” one of the agents said, eyeing Tin Man fearfully. “We will be taking her. Please, remain aboard your ship.”

Jacob watched on the external cameras as they shoved Loen into a ground car and sped away. The whole encounter took less than a few minutes, and there was something decidedly odd about it.

“If we were transporting a fugitive passenger, why would they let us remain aboard the ship and free?” Tin Man asked.

“And how did they know she was a passenger and not part of our crew?” Jacob asked.

They sat in silence for a few moments, processing what they’d just witnessed. Reelan-4 wasn’t the type of planet you attacked uniformed customs agents on, so he wasn’t second guessing his snap decision to let them take her. Instead, he wondered if they’d somehow knew she was aboard his ship. They didn’t seem too interested in checking the usual stuff, just went straight for her.

“Hello? Captain?” a voice called from the cargo hold. Jacob looked at Tin Man and shrugged.

“We’re here,” he called as two more customs agents, this pair unarmed, walked through the open hatchway.

“Greetings. We’re with Reelan Customs and Immigration Authority,” one of them said. “We’re here for your incoming inspection.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Jacob asked. “You guys were just here. You grabbed my passenger and rolled out of here.” As the two agents looked at each other, Jacob realized that they’d been had.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but no other agents are working this side of landing area. We came here directly from the light freighter off your starboard side.”

“She got us,” Jacob laughed. When he saw the confused look on the agent’s face, he waved him off. “Sorry. Please, go ahead with your inspection. Ship’s log and registry is up on the flightdeck.”

“Thank you, Captain. We will be quick.”

True to his word, they were in and out of Boneshaker in less than ten minutes. Once they’d approved their stay on Reelan-4, they were off the ship and on to the medium break bulk freighter that had landed just after them.

“Should we pursue her?” Tin Man asked.

“She’s gone.” Jacob shook his head. “Let our guard down for a second after getting too familiar and forgot who we were dealing with. She had all this set up to go, and we delivered her right to it. Fuck.”

He got up from his seat and walked over to starboard berthing where Loen had been sleeping and looked in. The rack was still made, but there was a datacore sitting on top of it, along with a small holographic projector. It was one of the cheap ones you could buy in a starport lounges to record messages on for your loved ones or yourself. He picked them both up and went back to the galley, putting the projector on the galley table and activating it.

“I hope this message finds you well and that you haven’t torn your ship apart in a rage, Captain,” Loen’s smiling face said. “I do appreciate your help, young human, but let’s not pretend our relationship is built on trust and respect. Mutual need isn’t enough for me to stay unwillingly in your company for too long.”

“She has a point,” Jacob grunted.

“But I’m nothing if not fair,” she continued. “The datacore has everything I promised on it. Well, most everything. We will be in contact, and I will certainly live up to my promise of building you a scanner capable of detecting the counterfeits that currently infest your government. What’s on that core is a starting point for you. It will let you cut off the flow of duplicates as well as get me the raw materials and data I need to build the detector.

“You may be wondering what my angle is in all of this. That part is easy. I want revenge. The people you’re after burned me out of my home, and there’s the principle of it all. You let one person get away with something like this, you’ll be running the rest of your life. I believe that’s a sentiment you can understand perfectly well.

“Good luck, Captain.”

“Not a total loss, then,” Tin Man said.

“You trust her?” Jacob asked.

“I trust her to give us everything we need to help her achieve her goals. At the moment, our goals align with hers. We will need to be vigilant for when they do not.”

“Wisely spoken,” Jacob said, getting to his feet. “Go ahead and feed that datacore into one of the air-gapped terminals and see what’s on it. I’ll call for servicing so we can get back in space.”

Reggie Weathers walked out of the briefing room in a hurry, avoiding any further questions from the staff.

Admiral Webb hadn’t shown up for the morning brief, something that had never happened without prior announcement being sent out before. Without knowing the reason why himself, Reggie had deflected questions and informed the staff that the admiral had a prior commitment. Given his reputation and position, the explanation was taken without question.

“Commander,” a voice called out. He turned and saw a young lieutenant running up to him. He looked to the door, gauging whether or not he could make a break for it without being too obvious. “Please! A minute.”

“What can I do for you, Lieutenant Bauer?” Reggie asked with a sigh. “I’m very busy.”

“I’ll bet,” Bauer snorted. “Going to check in on whatever that thing is pretending to be the⁠—”

Reggie grabbed her by the arm harder than he intended and dragged her into an empty office.

“Watch your mouth!” he hissed.

“Sorry,” she said, rubbing her arm. “Just trying to get your attention.”

“You’ve got it, but your carelessness could get you, and me, killed,” Reggie said. “Do you have flightline access and a plausible reason to be down there?”

“I do,” she said.

“Blackheart’s hangar. Thirty minutes.”

Reggie watched her go and shook his head. Lisa Bauer was a newish arrival on Mosler Station. She’d gotten the assignment by networking with Captain Jacob Brown when he’d visited a Navy detachment on Breaker’s World, and she’d provided him with intel the base commander had been trying to hide. As a returned favor, Jacob had recommended her for Scout Fleet. Luck was on her side, and there had been a lot of turnover on the administration side, and Webb had approved her transfer without too much hassle.

So, how the hell had she figured out Webb was a fake?

“Everything okay, Commander?” a senior chief asked as Reggie walked from the office looking flustered.

“Yeah, Chief,” he said with a wave. “All good.”

He went and grabbed another coffee and made some pretense of reading off a tablet while milling around in the operations area, killing time before he could go see what the hell Bauer knew and how. The minutes dragged by until he could leave. He told the duty officer to alert him immediately if the admiral arrived at the Ops center and walked out the small, enclosed car he used on base.

When he arrived at the hangar, he appreciated that Bauer at least had the sense to park her vehicle where it couldn’t be seen from the road that ran parallel along the security fence. After parking his own vehicle, he walked past hers, waving her out and leading her to one of the entry doors.

“Isn’t this⁠—”

“Quiet,” he said, keying in the code, and then motioning her into the hangar. As she passed him, he pulled a sidearm from his hip pocket and trained it on her, pulling the door shut. When the lights came up, and she saw he was aiming a weapon at her, she paled but remained calm.

“What is this, Commander?” she asked.

“You tell me,” Reggie said. She looked uncertain, and he offered no lifeline, letting her squirm under his glare.

“I noticed that Admiral Webb had a new aide,” she said, staring at the weapon, “but you hadn’t been reassigned or slotted to leave Mosler. After that, I began noticing other things.”

“Like?”

“He didn’t know who I was. Like, at all. I sat through three interviews with Admiral Webb before being accepted into Scout Fleet. In my time here, he always waved and greeted me by name. Now, when I talk to him, he asks me my name every single time, even if I just spoke to him earlier in the day.”

“He’s a busy man.” Reggie shrugged.

“I also saw his new aide using some sort of device on him,” Bauer said. “Webb had begun stuttering, and then tripped. I was in the office working when the aide pulled him in and sat him in a chair. It was something he waved over the front of Webb’s forehead.”

“You saw this, and they let you live?”

“I’m not that tall, Commander. You can’t see me behind my terminal.”

Reggie lowered the pistol and ran his free hand across his face.

“This information is radioactive, Lieutenant,” he said. “You understand?”

“Why aren’t we doing something about it?” she demanded.

“Because we have no idea who is really who they say they are,” Reggie said. “It’s a fucking nightmare. I’ve been quietly moving assets around that I’m certain of, and I have a wildcard I can play, but not until I have a better idea of what’s going on.”

“Webb’s not the only one?” Bauer asked, horrified. Reggie just shook his head.

“It’s…bad.”

“Do you know where he is right now?”

“No. I assume it’s malfunctioning and the officers he’s been surrounded by lately are trying to figure out what to do.”

“It seems like an opportunity to me,” Bauer said.

“Perhaps it is at that,” Reggie said. “If we’re wrong, we’ll be sitting in a prison cell for a long time. You understand that, right?”

“We’re not wrong.”

Reggie considered what she was suggesting. If the construct was malfunctioning and they could capture it, they might have an opportunity to figure out who made it and if the real Webb was still alive.

“Go back to the Ops center,” he said. “Keep an eye on things there. I’m going to go talk to some people. If we do this, it will happen quick and we’ll need to make sure nobody outside knows what’s going on.”

“We’re not wrong,” she repeated. “Do what you have to do, Commander.”

14

“When did she have time to set all this up?”

“I believe she did it while we were on Or’dan,” Tin Man said. “She was under constant surveillance while aboard the ship.”

Jacob scrolled through the organized data as the ship flew itself toward the docking arm complex of an orbital platform in the Emirie System called Nivaven. It wasn’t in the super massive class like Pinnacle Station or Diwa Outpost, but it was still big enough that it took forty minutes to fly around it to line up on their assigned docking arm. He’d tried to get a hangar berth like he normally preferred, but everything was under contract. No short-term transient hangars available.

“What do you think was in that case?” he asked. “The fact her fake customs agents grabbed that without even asking if it was hers should have tipped us off. I blame you.”

“Me?” Tin Man turned to him.

“I’m a human in my twenties. Barely a sentient primate as you like to point out,” Jacob said. “You’re a hyperintelligent war machine that’s over a hundred years old, capable of doing trillions of calculations per second.”

“And your point?” Tin Man asked, now angry.

“I think I’ve made myself clear.”

Jacob turned to hide his smile as Tin Man fumed in the copilot’s seat. Even though the battlesynth could kill him with a single blow, he took a perverse delight in antagonizing him.

The datacore Loen had provided them showed that she’d been investigating her competition for some time. The operation was widely distributed and compartmentalized to the point that if any one location was discovered, nobody would be able to ascertain what they were actually doing save for the facility that did the final assembly and programming. Jacob was well aware that Loen was probably using them to do her dirty work, but he didn’t have much of a choice at this point.

The facility they were paying a visit to on Nivaven was an innocuous sounding company called Mizo’ta Medical Engineering. They specialized in the bio matter that could be fed into machines to produce the copies themselves. It was a process that ran into some legal issues on most worlds, but Nivaven had both the infrastructure and lack of prohibition they needed to do the work.

Mizo’ta had been a legitimate company producing a product that was sought after by fast-cloning labs that reproduced body parts. At some point, the people they were after arrived and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. Afterwards, Mizo’ta only had one client.

“You have not made any comment about your personal connection to this company,” Tin Man said. Jacob rubbed his chin and thought about it.

“Jorvren Ma’Fredich was one of the preeminent geneticists in the quadrant,” he said after a moment. “He and his sister will have their fingerprints on much in that world. He pioneered techniques that are still used today. I don’t think a company he worked with many years ago means he had anything to do with what they’re up to now.”

“Interesting,” Tin Man said.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jacob asked.

“Only that Jorvren Ma’Fredich seems to intersect more than is statistically likely in situations where genetic manipulation is being used for nefarious purpose,” Tin Man said. “It is a big quadrant. There are billions of talented geneticists. You can do the math.”

Now, it was Jacob’s turn to fume. Jovren “Doc” Ma’Fredich was a member of his father’s Omega Force crew. His calm, rich voice and sophisticated manner were a memory of his childhood when he’d first met his father and realized what he did. When he was alone at night and too tired to keep up the pretense of hating Jason Burke, he would imagine that he was with them, living on the Phoenix.

He always saw Doc as the mature father figure corralling all the wilder personalities like Jason, Crusher, and Kage. Coming to terms with the fact that in his past life Doc did some truly horrible things, it was difficult for him.

“I do not meant to upset you,” Tin Man said, sounding like he meant it.

“I’m only upset because you’re right,” Jacob said. “You build someone up too much in your head, and then you have an emotional investment in making sure they stay there.”

They didn’t speak as Boneshaker finished her approach and lined up the port airlock hatch, waiting for Jacob to give the final command to dock. He checked everything over and authorized the computer for the final maneuver, holding his breath until he felt the bump of the ship hitting the stops of the docking arm. Since both the airlock and the dock were Eshquarian Standard, hard lock and seal took less than a minute.

“Let’s hope this works,” Jacob said, holding up the datacard they’d imprinted with the data Loen had provided.

“Loen seemed to have more of a knack for intelligence work than she did for cybernetics,” Tin Man said. “I have no doubt she has already compromised their entire operation and has been waiting for the right time to strike.”

“Why not just call in mercs? Or let a government know what she’s up to?” Jacob wondered as they secured the ship and disembarked.

“Because she also wants to collect what is left,” Tin Man said. “If a government comes, they will confiscate all of this cutting-edge technology. If she hired mercs, they might do the same just to sell to the highest bidder.”

“Guess we’re the only ones dumb enough to do this for free,” Jacob grumbled.

Nivaven was relatively new compared to some of the other privately owned platforms, barely fifty years old according to the nav data. As such, it was still quite clean and smartly organized. Once a platform crossed its second century of life or third owner, whichever came first, they all felt like ancient ruins.

Grime would cake into corners and never come clean. Systems and additions would just be haphazardly stuck on as it would be too much trouble to dig the old machinery out. But most notably, and inevitably, criminal elements would move in and exert control as smugglers and traffickers preferred platforms to planets for their illicit trade.

Using the public transport system, they were able to reach Mizo’ta in less than an hour. The public front of the company was brightly lit but secured with a heavy armored door and no frontage windows. It looked less like an engineering firm and more like a fortified safehouse.

“Shit,” Jacob said as they walked by. “That’s a problem. We can’t just blast our way in…can we?”

“No, we cannot,” Tin Man said.

“You sure? You can maybe set the place on fire once we’re done,” Jacob said.

“Please, be serious. We need to handle this without alerting our enemy that we are on their trail.”

“Looks like Plan B,” Jacob said.

Plan B was loosely defined as finding a way to evacuate the lab so that they could get in. Easier said than done, of course. Jacob had wanted to release a toxic gas into the lab, but Tin Man argued that might end up being fatal. When Jacob just shrugged, he pointed out that dead bodies tended to make station administrators jumpy. They liked to lock down the docks and hangars, trapping everyone until they could sort it out.

It was that conversation that led them to look into the security apparatus on the station. As a newer, upstanding center of commerce, management was overly sensitive to any potential illegal activity that could besmirch their reputation. They prided themselves on the claim that there was no organized form on Nivaven. It was an absolutely absurd claim, of course, but it meant that station security would come down like a hammer on anyone they thought was crossing the line from a little recreational petty crime into a full-blown enterprise.

“Shall we find your sacrificial lamb, so to speak?” Tin Man asked.

“Let’s,” Jacob said.

Tin Man marched into the section security office as if he owned the place.

“I wish to speak to the officer in charge,” he announced loudly.

“I… And you would be?” the officer at the desk asked.

“I am in a hurry and wish to speak to whoever is in charge here,” Tin Man said.

“But I can’t⁠—”

“It is not advisable to make me wait.”

The officer stared at him for a moment before speaking into his headset. After a short, frantic conversation, a heavy security door opened behind the reception area and an officer with a much more intricate uniform walked out.

“I understand you’re looking for⁠—”

“Time is short,” Tin Man said. “I am Combat Unit 566 with Kheprian Intelligence, currently assigned to an anti-narcotics taskforce.”

“They have a battlesynth on an anti-narcotics detail?” the officer asked skeptically. “Seems…overkill.”

“This is not simple drug trafficking,” Tin Man said. “We are currently tracking multiple cartels making DNA-targeted narcotics. This has elevated the matter to our taskforce.”

“You have credentials that back this up?”

“Of course,” Tin Man said, handing over the forged credentials that would identify him as a special operative within Kheprian Intelligence. They were impeccable fakes.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what does this have to do with us?” the officer asked after scanning the credentials.

“One of the firms here, a Mizo’ta Medical Engineering, has been supplying specialized services to this cartel,” Tin Man said.

“Your proof?” the officer asked.

“Should be here momentarily. My partner is collecting one of their associates.”

“It’s a good deal.”

“So, all this money just to tell them we saw these people moving product?”

“Something like that.” Jacob smiled.

It hadn’t taken too much time to track down one of the larger smuggling cartels operating on the platform. No matter how much a station tried to prevent it, they could never fully eradicate criminal activity. Jacob looked for one of the smaller outfits, found one of the captains, and then put the pressure on him.

He was a Veran, which had worried Jacob at first as they were exceptionally hard to con. Once they began talking, however, he discovered the little guy liked to sample his own supply and had gotten himself into a bit of a debt problem with his bosses. Jacob flashing twenty thousand credits with a promise of more had hooked him.

“I don’t know,” the Veran said, staring at the loaded chits. His name was Cypa, and he was a Northern Region Veran so his skin was a light blue rather than the mottled green Jacob was used to seeing. From what he’d learned from his father’s code slicer, Kage, the Northerns weren’t well treated on their homeworld.

“Easiest money you’ll ever make,” Jacob prodded.

“If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?” Cypa asked. Jason sighed.

“I’m not from here,” he said patiently. “I’m not with the cartels. You are. Besides that, I’m the one paying. Why would I spend money if I don’t have to?”

“That’s a good point,” Cypa said. “If this was a scam, you would just keep the money yourself. Right?”

“Right,” Jacob said, struggling not to roll his eyes. He already felt bad taking advantage of the little idiot without him making it so easy. “See. It can’t be a scam because I’m the one giving the money to you.”

“Right, right,” Cypa said, his unique Veran brain too addled with drugs to see the problem with his own logic. “So, what do I need to do again?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

“This is your partner?”

“Yes,” Tin Man affirmed.

“Your partner…from Kheprian Intelligence.”

“Yes. You understand that in many cases having pru agents would not be advisable, right?”

“I’m standing right here,” Jacob said.

“Agent Brown, this is Inspector Pedese,” Tin Man said. “He is head of security for Addalon Sector.”

“Beautiful,” Jacob said. “He’s been briefed?”

“He has. And he is skeptical,” Pedese said. Jacob turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“What are you skeptical about? That a Kheprian Intelligence agency would hire a human or that the cartels are running drugs through your sector?”

“Listen here, you little⁠—”

“My apologies.” Jacob raised his hands. “That was unfair. This is a sophisticated operation, and one they’ve been incredibly successful at hiding. Did you know that Pinnacle still can’t seem to get rid of these guys? And they’re throwing a lot of money and manpower at the problem.”

“Pinnacle Station?” Pedese mused. “If they’re having problems even with all their resources, then it’s little wonder the smaller platforms with their more meager enforcement agencies would struggle.”

Jacob smiled at Tin Man.

“Exactly,” he said. “It could hardly be blamed on you that this slid by unnoticed.”

“One thing, Agent,” Pedese said, nodding to one of his officers. “If you’re going to try and pull off such a simplistic, amateurish con, you probably want to make sure your dupe isn’t one of my undercovers.”

“What?” Jacob asked, frowning.

The door opened again, and in walked Cypa, bright-eyed and unrestrained.

“Hey, Captain,” he said to Pedese. “Sorry about this. I had to play along with this idiot or risk blowing my cover. I figured you’d want to find out who he is and what he’s really up to.”

Along with the Veran came four heavily armed officers, all focused on Jacob and Tin Man. Jacob shook his head no at Tin Man’s unasked question. For the moment, they would let this play out.

“It’s okay. You did the right thing,” Pedese said before turning to Jacob. “So…whoever you really are, you are now going to tell me what you’re up to on my station.”

“Well, damn.”

15

“I’m really not sure about this, Commander.”

“I sympathize with your point of view, Captain, but I’m afraid we’re out of time.”

Commander Reggie Weathers and Captain Al May, leader of Team Buzzkill, sat in a utility vehicle they’d borrowed from Civil Engineering Services. Sergeant Sandoval was also with them as they watched Admiral Webb’s residence from a distance of half a klick. They were two streets over and observing the house with powerful optics through a gap in the other buildings.

“You really think Webb is a fake?” May asked.

“I know he is. Now, we just need to figure out how to prove it,” Reggie answered. “He hasn’t been seen in two days. We need to move before they have time to replace or remove it.”

“Lights have come on,” Sandoval reported. “Minimal activity. No signs of active surveillance, but there is an M422 with two Marines in it sitting on the road.”

“They’re about to be pulled,” Reggie said, looking at his watch. “As soon as they pull off, we move in.”

It was nearly twenty minutes later when the lights of the M422 light tactical vehicle snapped on, and it rolled away. Reggie had called in a favor to have the patrol moved away from the home. He’d had to lie to a good friend and tell them the request came from Admiral Webb himself, but if he was right about what was going on, the only thing his friend would be pissed about was that he wasn’t included in what they were about to do.

“Let’s roll,” May said. “Sandman, grab the thing.”

“Got it, Cap.”

The trio moved quietly across the small lawns of the officer residences, running down between two houses so they could approach the CO’s house from the rear. Reggie had full remote access to the home’s security system, given to him by the admiral, so he had already silenced the entry alarms.

“I can’t believe what I’m about to do based on a hunch,” May said.

“Not me,” Sandoval said. “I’m just some poor enlisted slob following orders. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Shut up, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

They moved into position along the back patio and peered in. Reggie could see that the kitchen was dark, but there was light and movement in what would be the main living room just beyond it. He held for a moment to see if he could get some idea how many people might be in there, but no such luck.

“Here we go,” Reggie whispered, punching in the code to the lock. It opened with a soft click, and they were inside.

May and Sandoval quietly rushed ahead, weapons raised. Sandoval cleared the corner first and fired, the soft pfft of his pistol barely audible.

“Tango down,” he said. “Moving.”

“Clearing second level,” May said.

Reggie walked into the living room and saw Webb’s new assistant lying face down on the carpet, a dart sticking out of his neck. Admiral Webb was also in there…sort of. The fake was propped up in a stuffed recliner. Its mouth hung open, and it stared ahead blankly, its arms randomly twitching.

“First floor clear,” Sandoval said.

“Two upstairs,” May said over coms. “Darted and hogtied. Coming down.”

Reggie finished securing the first tango and then moved to get a closer look at Webb. It was hooked up to medical monitoring machines, as well as an intravenous drip. There was also a device hooked up to its forehead, with data cables running to a small, portable terminal.

“You good?” May asked.

“Good,” Reggie said. “Let’s get started.”

Sandoval went back to the kitchen and brought the device he’d carried from the vehicle into the living room. He opened it up and turned it on while May drew a vial of blood from Webb.

The machine was a portable biometric analyzer he’d borrowed from medical. It was capable of rapid DNA sequencing and would let Reggie compare the DNA of the Webb sitting in the chair with that of the sample that was on record with Scout Fleet. May loaded the sample as Reggie programmed in the test parameters.

“You recognize any of these guys?” he asked as the machine worked.

“Never seen ‘em,” Sandoval said. “They actually don’t even look like Marines.”

“Yeah,” Reggie mused. “Pull samples from these guys, too. We’ll bounce them against the database and see if they’re who they claim to be.”

They didn’t have long to wait before the machine confirmed that the sample they’d pulled did not match the DNA of Admiral Marcus Webb on file. Reggie was both relieved and horrified by this news.

“I’ll be damned,” May whispered. “No offense, Commander…but I had really hoped you were wrong.”

“None taken,” Reggie said. “I hoped I was wrong, too.”

“What about these assholes?” Sandoval asked. “Kill them?”

“Just hang on a minute there, Devil Dog,” May rolled his eyes. “We probably want to see who they are, and then actually charge them with a crime before executing them.”

“I’ll go grab the samples from the two upstairs,” Sandoval said, handing Reggie a vial. “Here’s this guy.”

Reggie reset the machine and started the analysis of the new sample while May went to work with another biometric scanner on the thing in the chair. The sample quickly came back as not being in the Scout Fleet database, so Reggie connected his com unit and used the hyperlink data connection to log into the NIS database. He hoped he didn’t set off a bunch of red flags, but he had to know who the people were who had been operating Webb.

“Fingerprints and retinal scans all match,” May said.

“But DNA doesn’t,” Reggie said, taking two more sample vials from Sandoval. “So, that thing was constructed to fool a security-level bio scan, but not a medical examination. This seems like the next step evolution of the cybernetic avatar they replaced Seeladas Dalton with. The next generation may be completely indistinguishable.”

“That thing is waking up,” Sandoval said, pointing to Webb.

Sure enough, the fake had stopped twitching about and was eying them with a cold, reptilian glare. Knowing that it wasn’t actually human gave Reggie a cold chill down his spine. Was there a failsafe mode, and it was about to kill them all?

“Status,” it said, staring at Reggie without blinking.

“What?”

“Status!” it repeated.

Reggie looked around the chair and saw some equipment he didn’t recognize along with the attachment on its head. He took a shot in the dark.

“Diagnostics,” he said.

“Diagnostics,” it repeated. “Involuntary functions…nominal. Voluntary motor functions…degraded. Imprint map…error. Imprint map…error. Next query.”

“Standby,” Reggie said. The avatar closed its eyes and remained still.

“That was the freakiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Sandoval said.

A chirp on the analyzer drew Reggie’s attention, and it confirmed his suspicions. The man bound and darted in front of him was not a member of the United Earth Armed Services.

“Gentlemen, meet Kevin Dekalb,” he said. “He was washed out of the Navy in the middle of A-school. After that, he signed up with Signal Protection Services.”

“I know them,” May said. “Private military company. Low quality troops. The budget colonial lines use them for convoy security.”

“Parasites.” Reggie sneered. “But the perfect place to recruit someone who could at least reasonably pass as Fleet Security Forces while also being somewhat anonymous.”

“Not to mention someone with questionable morals,” Sandoval said.

“Says the Marine.” Reggie snorted. “But I take your point. So, the real question…what do we do now?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” May said, “but we take a page out of Captain Brown’s book. We go rogue. Off the grid.”

“How the hell do we do that?” Reggie asked.

“The Kentucky. Her crew was handpicked by the real Webb. Talk to Captain Duncan, in person, and then we have him send the VIP shuttle down to load up all this stuff and take off.”

“That’s…actually not a bad idea.”

“Thanks,” May said flatly.

“Didn’t mean it how it sounded,” Reggie assured him. “Drag the other two down. Dart them again if you need to. I’ll get up to the Kentucky and talk with her captain. Probably not a bad idea to secure that thing. I’m not sure how long standby lasts.”

Arranging a ride up to the Kentucky, the command-and-control ship sitting in orbit over Koliss-2, had been easier than Reggie had anticipated. Unlike the Scout Teams, most of the military couldn’t just go to space and back on a whim and certainly not without a good reason. Lieutenant Bauer was able to help with that and secure him a ride on an already-scheduled tender up to the ship. Once aboard, it had been easy enough to get a meeting with the captain thanks to their established relationship without it raising any eyebrows.

“This is the craziest story I’ve ever heard,” Captain Duncan said after Reggie finished briefing him. “It’s only because I know you personally that I’m even entertaining this.”

“I have all the physical evidence sitting at the admiral’s residence,” Reggie said. “The problem is that we have no idea how high this goes or how widespread it is. I really need your help on this, Captain.”

“This is probably a career ender either way it goes. You get that, right?”

“If you’re worried⁠—”

“I’m worried about you getting second thoughts. I owe Marcus Webb my life, and my career is topped out. If my last act as captain of this ship is to save him, I’m all in. You’re much younger and ambitious. Are you willing to risk it all for this?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Reggie snapped. He’d been loyal to the admiral for many years, foregoing promotion and advancement to stay at his side because he believed in what they were doing. He took some offense to Duncan’s suggestion that his commitment was any less than total.

“Okay then.” Duncan leaned back. “This ship is authorized to move at the admiral’s pleasure. Are you, his trusted aide, telling me that Admiral Webb wishes for me to prepare the Kentucky for departure?”

“I am,” Reggie said.

“Very well. We will be ready to get underway within the hour. The ship is fully provisioned and fueled, Commander, so all we need to do is collect our VIP. I assume it would be more convenient to send the Admiral’s Launch directly to his residence rather than wait for a shuttle transfer from the Ops center?”

“You assume correctly, Captain,” Reggie said, smiling despite himself.

“I will make the necessary arrangements immediately. Please, proceed to the forward hangar so you can ride down and help.”

Reggie walked out of the captain’s office feeling much better than when he’d gone in. The odds were still stacked against them, but now they had a starship. That meant mobility, freedom of movement, resources, and weaponry if it came down to it. Being aboard the C&C ship gave him a fighting chance of staying ahead of whomever they would send to find out why their Webb was malfunctioning.

16

“I want it in cryo-storage.”

T’Cali Amon looked down at the thing that had been pretending to be Similan with disgust. He had shot it through the chest with a concealed blaster he carried right in the middle of his office after it became aggressive.

“We’ll handle it, sir.”

“No record,” Amon said. “Restricted access. I’ll let you know later what I want done.”

The construct had gained access to the building and the secure office complex, but when it had tried to access Amon’s inner sanctum, the advanced biometric scanners, which included a genetic analysis, alerted him that whatever was trying to get to him was not his trusted right hand.

“This is truly exquisite work, Minister,” one of the members of his technical staff said. “How did you know it was a construct and not the actual Similan?”

“It failed the genetic scan, but I overrode and let it in anyway,” Amon said. “The scanner isn’t always one hundred percent accurate, and I was curious, but I still kept in mind that we just discovered a head of state had been replaced with a clever cybernetic copy. Once it started talking, I knew it wasn’t really Similan.”

“Assassin?” one of his advisors asked.

“Doubtful,” Amon said, pouring himself a drink. “It seemed bent on trying to simply assume Similan’s role. I’m guessing it was probably here to ether gain or hide intel.”

“What will you do?”

“We’ll keep it here for now and see if anyone shows up looking for it. In the meantime, put out a discreet alert to the other services that we’ve had an infiltration attempt by a convincing biotic avatar.”

“I’ll handle it, sir.”

Once everyone had left and his staff had cleaned up the mess, Amon sat at his desk and tried to corral his racing thoughts. It was certainly no coincidence that it occurred right after Eshquarian involvement in an incident involving a cyborg Cridal prime minister. He activated his terminal and pulled up the active file on Dr. Loen Pyx, deciding to start there and branch outward in his search.

A quick read through the latest updates by the field operative told him that Pyx’s facility had been attacked, and she was assumed dead. Diwa Outpost was doing its own investigation, but they didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. One interesting sidenote the operative included was that, after the attack and immediate aftermath, a battlesynth and a human had arrived and poked around in the abandoned ruins of Pyx’s former facility. He smiled tightly, knowing it could only be two people.

But what were Jacob Brown and Tin Man doing there alone? He knew that Kill Team Blackheart had been through an ordeal and had injured members, but was Marcus Webb really so reckless as to send them out alone? His first instinct was to reach out to Webb and see what was going on, but his hand stopped before it reached the hyperlink panel. The copy of Similan had spooked him badly, and now he wasn’t entirely sure who he could trust.

“I’m one of the most influential and powerful people on this planet, yet I’m constantly reaching out to a young human for help,” he grumbled as he punched up the address for Jacob’s personal hyperlink. “Embarrassing.”

The channel request went unanswered, as did the subsequent three tries.

“Where the hell is that kid at?”

“Tell us who you really are or we’re going to go ahead and process you both.”

Inspector Pedese leaned over the table, now trying to appear reasonable after the last two hours of scare tactics didn’t work.

“I’m an agent with Kheprian Intelligence,” Jacob repeated for the fiftieth time.

“No, you’re not,” Pedese said. “Your credentials are high-quality fakes but not perfect. But you’re not just some petty criminals, either. You belong to someone’s intelligence agency, but whose…that’s the real question.”

“It’s an interesting question,” Jacob agreed.

“You seem quite pleased with yourself,” Pedese said. “If you think you’re battlesynth partner is coming to save you, don’t.”

“I doubt you’d be foolish enough to do something to him, assuming that you even could,” Jacob said.

“Didn’t need to,” Pedese said. “His exact words were, this was his stupid plan, it is his problem.”

“That rat bastard,” Jacob hissed.

Pedese spoke again, now pacing behind the table, but Jacob was no longer listening. He commanded his cybernetic left hand to reconfigure and collapse in on itself so that it could easily slip out of the restraints they’d slapped him in. The cuffs were heavy and chained to the chair, which was bolted to the floor. He was curious on whether he was strong enough to break it loose but, right now, he needed the element of surprise.

Once he was out of the first cuff, he reset the hand, and then commanded it to full strength and pinched down on the locking mechanism of the remaining cuff. It made a sharp popping noise as it let go, but Pedese paid it no mind. Jacob was now completely free, but he wasn’t sure what to do about that. He was locked in a secure interrogation room, and he had no intention of harming Pedese for simply doing his job.

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Pedese asked.

“Honestly? I sort of drifted in and out,” Jacob said.

“Your chances are running out. Once I process you and your friend, you’ll be moved to the core office in Attama Sector. You will not be treated well, and you will tell them what they want to know.”

“Sounds ominous. How about instead⁠—”

The door burst open, and Jacob turned to see a troop trying to come in, his weapon up.

“He broke his restraints!”

Before Pedese could react, Jacob leapt from the chair and slammed into the door, smashing both arms of the trooper. He grabbed the weapon and yanked it free before opening the door and kicking the trooper to clear it. Pedese struggled to rise from his chair but froze when Jacob trained his weapon on him.

“I have no idea if this thing has a stunner mode or what power level it’s set to. Want to gamble and find out?”

“You have just made things far worse for yourself than they needed to be.”

“Yeah, that escalated kinda quick,” Jacob admitted. “But here we are all the same. Come on. I’m sure you know the drill. You’re my hostage until I either escape or one of your guys kills me.”

“Let’s hope for the latter,” Pedese grunted.

They walked through the detention area until they walked upon a pile of unconscious troopers with Tin Man standing in the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“I heard the commotion and assumed you had decided to do things the stupid way,” he said.

“It just sort of happened,” Jacob said. “It’s hardly my fault.”

“Of course.”

“Is this really an important conversation to have right now?” Pedese asked. Pedese was tense but not panicked. Jacob’s estimation of him went up a few notches.

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry about this,” Jacob said. “You seem like a good officer, and I hate that you’ll be getting blowback from this.”

“Not if I kill you,” Pedese said.

“That’s the spirit! Always look for that silver lining,” Jacob said. “Now…why are we not being rushed by armored troops? Why is there no alarm? Where the hell is everybody?”

“This is not the main sector office,” Tin Man answered after Pedese just glared at him. “There is minimal crewing at the moment due to a tasking in another sector. Sub-commander Pedese is likely here because this satellite office has been facilitating a smuggling operation. It is not narcotics but high-value electronic components which the buyers wish to avoid paying tariffs on.”

“Well, well, well,” Jacob said, smiling widely. “I guess now we know why they didn’t send us out for processing right away. What’s your cut in all this?”

“I’m not involved in it, you idiot,” Pedese said. “I’m here investigating it and trying to protect a few of my more promising officers before they get busted. Core office is aware of their operation and is getting ready to put a stop to it.”

“Is there anyone left in here?” Jacob asked.

“Two up front,” Tin Man said. “How do you wish to proceed?”

“We still need to get inside of Mizo’ta Medical,” Jacob said. “I guess we take care of these guys in their own cells and hope that buys us enough time?”

“I can get you into Mizo’ta Medical,” Pedese said, “but I’m not sure you want that. It’s a front company for Orrine government. They won’t take kindly to you stealing from them. Let my officers go, and I’ll help you.”

“You must really think we’re stupid,” Jacob said.

“Honestly? Your performance thus far leads me to believe you might be.”

“He has a point,” Tin Man said.

“Let’s get these guys tied up and locked into these cells so we can get out of here,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes. “Hopefully that will buy us enough time.”

Tin Man went forward and quickly incapacitated the two officers manning the duty desk while Jacob put everyone else into restraints. There were six heavily armored holding cells with no windows so they divided the prisoners between those, secured them to the walls, and then disabled the door locks. For added measure, Tin Man discreetly welded along the top edges with his cutting laser.

“Anything interesting up front?” Jacob asked.

“There is no way to override the locks to Mizo’ta Medical, if that is what you are thinking,” Tin Man said. “But there is a way we can order a general evacuation per section.”

“That has potential,” Jacob said. “Show me.”

Tin Man quickly went through the public safety override system available through the security satellite office. It was more of a glorified public alert system so there was no guarantee it wouldn’t just be ignored, but Jacob was out of time.

When he imprisoned a group of security officers that started the clock running for when they needed to be aboard Boneshaker and well away from the platform. If the officers were discovered before they were away, a general lockdown would be issued, and it wouldn’t be difficult for them to find the only battlesynth on the station.

“How much time do you need?” he asked.

“Nine seconds once I access a port,” Tin Man said.

“Go. Now,” Jacob said. “I’ll give you five minutes to reach the lab before I hit the evac, then I’ll leave.”

“You should head straight for the ship,” Tin Man said. “I will not need you for this part.”

“I don’t think we should split up,” Jacob said, but Tin Man was already out of the control room and exiting the security suite.

17

Tin Man’s pace was quick, but not so fast that he drew unwanted attention.

He had calculated his speed so that he would arrive at the lab just as the local evacuation order went out. Jacob Brown’s predilection to “wing it,” as he said, had once again led them into a blind alley. The loose plan had too many opportunities for critical failure.

Tin Man had little doubt that, push comes to shove, he could fight his way off the station. Security forces on platforms like Nivaven were there to keep everyone honest, and they were conditioned to a certain level of violence. A battlesynth in full combat mode would be well above that threshold, but it would also greatly increase the odds that Jacob would be harmed and possibly killed.

So, instead of doing the smart thing and getting off the station while the getting was good, he was now rushing to try to finish the mission because he knew Jacob would not agree to an abort.

“Attention! This is a Station Control Event!” a voice boomed over the intercom just as Tin Man approached the lab entrance. “Mandatory section evacuation is now ordered. Proceed to shelter areas immediately.”

The message repeated on a loop as amber and green lights flashed while illuminated arrows appeared on the floor to direct non-locals to the appropriate shelter area. As people rushed about in confusion, the lab door remained closed. The foot traffic thinned out, and Tin Man knew he couldn’t wait there too much longer.

He made the determination to wait another thirty seconds when the door opened a crack and a confused Miressan poked her head out. Tin Man approached the door and grabbed it before she could pull it back closed.

“You are required to evacuate,” he said harshly. “Leave immediately.”

“I’m… There are only three of us here, and I was told that⁠—”

“Vacate this section or face legal consequences,” Tin Man said. He pushed his way past her and noticed that the space was just one large production floor. “Where are the rest of your employees?”

“We’re in the middle of a rotation shift. New workers from⁠—”

“Caarin!” one of the other Miressans hissed. “Silence!”

“Leave. Now,” Tin Man said. “I will not repeat myself.”

The three Miressans left, looking unsure but eventually clearing out of the area. Tin Man quickly went to one of the main terminals and inserted the datacard Loen Pyx had provided. The aggressive program on the card attacked the network at once and sliced through layers of security with enough ease to make Tin Man suspicious. Loen clearly knew more about this operation than she had let on.

After sixteen seconds, the datacard spit out on its own. Tin Man took it and quickly left the lab. The alarms were still blaring and the corridors were deserted as he ran at full speed toward the docking complex. Jacob should have had plenty of time to get aboard Boneshaker and prep her for flight.

“Uh, oh.”

Jacob watched the feed from the remote camera he and Tin Man had planted at the main junction of the docking arms as heavily armed soldiers grouped there. The junction gave access to five different docking arms, but it was clear they were prepping to come down to where Boneshaker was still moored. They were cautious and waiting for something or someone, which gave Jacob a few minutes.

When he and Tin Man operated as a pair, they had certain standing protocols that didn’t apply when any of the other team members were there. It made assumptions about the abilities and durability of the two that couldn’t be said for the non-augmented humans. One of those protocols was that, yes…they do leave a good man behind.

On the chance that Jacob and Tin Man became separated, they were to assume that the ship was a rally point unless otherwise specified. Whoever reached the ship first was not to allow it to be captured even if it meant leaving. The remaining person would then be tasked with escape and evasion until the other could retrieve them.

“Shit, Tin Man,” he said as he brought the primary flight systems online. “Too slow.”

The computer warned him that the station was attempting to override control of the docking clamps, but the ship had been modified so that those systems were completely isolated from the hard dock connections. Station security received nothing but errors, and Jacob was able to disengage the clamps and push away from the airlock

The station read this as a catastrophic failure and activated all the emergency pressure hatches, locking the assault team in the junction and closing a dozen bulkheads that would take time to override so they could be extracted.

Jacob smiled and engaged the drive, flying quickly up and away to consider his next move.

New alarms blared as warnings of a possible structural failure in the docking complex caused all the emergency hatches in that section to close. Tin Man was near the main hatchway that led to the docking complex where Boneshaker was moored had been closed off, and armored troops milled about the area. He knew immediately that they were blown.

When he turned to escape down a side corridor, he was spotted. The troops didn’t hesitate. They opened fire on him, peppering his armor with low-power energy weapons of the sort normally carried by station security. Enough to knock down or kill most beings, not enough to destroy vital machinery or compromise the hull. While they posed little threat in small numbers, enough guns could be a problem, and he wasn’t invulnerable. A lucky shot could disable him and he’d be stuck.

“Stop! Stop right there!” one of the troops screamed, his voice tinged with fear.

Tin Man stopped and turned to look at him, switching to full combat mode. They all jumped back involuntarily as his cannons deployed, armor plating moved over critical areas, and his eyes glowed crimson red. Taking advantage of their hesitation, he leaned back toward the corridor he’d been heading into and fired his repulsors, rocketing away from the engagement.

The foot repulsors battlesynths were equipped with weren’t designed for sustained flight and certainly not up to the task of navigating the confines of a space station corridor. Tin Man flew on a shallow arc, cutting power when the corridor curved inward but having no time or means to arrest his flight. He fired his cannons directly into the bulkhead he was careening toward, shredding the composite cladding and exposing an open area beyond.

He retracted his cannons and raised his forearms to cover his head as he smashed through the bulkhead like a cannonball. The space beyond was a vertical shaft that ran between decks so, as Tin Man tried to roll in anticipation of hitting the deck, he caromed off a large conduit before falling down the shaft. He was able to get his feet pointed down and fired his repulsors again, slowing to a hover and holding onto a pipe to stabilize himself.

“It went down a service drop!” he heard a voice yell from where he’d just come. He continued to descent slowly down the shaft until he found a hatch marked in Jenovian Standard that said Water Reclamation System Access 2A. This was something he could work with. Water reclamation was one of those vital systems aboard ships and stations that made them habitable, but they weren’t secured as tightly as the obvious systems like power and defense.

The hatch opened without complaint or sounding an alarm, and he was able to slip into the space. Hopefully, he would be able to find a way off the station before Jacob was forced to depart the area. Otherwise, he would have to steal a ship, and they probably wouldn’t let him take it without a fight.

“I cannot believe we didn’t take personal coms,” Jacob said, eyeing the station in frustration as he waited for some signal from Tin Man that he was still free and moving.

He had flown Boneshaker straight into a tight formation, shut off his transponders, and was now hiding near the engine nacelle of a large freighter. It wouldn’t fool them for long—if it even had in the first place—but it bought him a few minutes to think. He trained the ship’s high-power optics and passive sensors on the station and waited for word from his friend or a reaction from the people he’d pissed off.

As he waited, a priority channel request came in on his personal hyperlink.

“Perfect timing,” he said sourly, assuming it was Mosler Station. Before he could silence the priority alert, something happened down at the station.

Massive vapor clouds began billowing out from multiple openings. The computer quickly analyzed the vapor and identified it as a fresh water dump into space. Thousands and thousands of gallons of fresh water being affected.

“The fuck?” Jacob muttered as alerts went out over the local net for ships to clear the area.

They would want all grav-drive ships the hell away as they would now use the station’s grav-emitters to begin pulling the precious water back. The ice would be drawn back toward a few collection points where it could be recovered and then fed back into the system to be processed. His gut told him this was Tin Man’s doing so he — There! The sensors picked up a flare among the ventral cloud. The computer struggled to identify it, but Jacob knew it had to be his friend’s repulsors firing.

“No guts, no glory,” he said, bringing the ship’s tactical systems online and diving out from beneath the freighter and racing toward the station. He lit up his emergency beacon, hoping to create confusion as he angled into a downward spiral course that would put him on an intercept for the flare he’d spotted in the vapor cloud.

“Courier Ship Esper declaring an emergency,” he said on the local net. “Life support failing, navigation offline. Request immediate…” He cut the transmission and concentrated on flying. If he could make it into the cloud, they might hesitate. It depended on how much water they needed to get back if they would risk firing a plasma cannon into it. He kept his shields up all the same.

“Identify any battlesynth signatures in local space,” Jacob ordered the computer. “Use active sensors.”

“One object, fifty-two percent probable match,” the computer said.

“Lock on and rendezvous.”

It was a tense few seconds as the ship zipped under the edge of the roughly saucer-shaped station and into the vapor cloud that was now expanding. Once he was in it, the impacts on the shields told him there were relatively large ice chunks, the largest of which the ship was moving toward.

When they were within two hundred meters, Jacob could see it was Tin Man, encased in ice with only the bottoms of his feet visible. No wonder the computer could only give him a coin toss on identifying him.

“Maneuver so our dorsal airlock is near the object,” Jacob said. The computer gave him two beeps in reply, and the ship rotated.

Jacob commanded the outer hatch open and watched as Tin Man fired his cannons, breaking his arms free of the ice, and then smashing the rest off himself. He fired his repulsors and streaked headfirst into the airlock. The status light on the airlock had just turned green when the first shot crashed into the shields.

“I am in,” Tin Man said over the intercom. “Go!”

Jacob slammed the drive to full power and actually angled up, skimming along the hull so the perimeter guns couldn’t get a clean shot at him. He primed the slip-drive and selected one of their emergency jumps that would let them just clear the area without the need to be especially accurate, only taking them to the outer system where they could set up a proper jump out of the sector.

“Status?” Tin Man asked stood behind Jacob.

“Besides you dripping water all over? I’m trying to make sure they can’t hit me without hitting themselves. I’m going to mesh-out right when we clear the edge.”

“Risky.”

“Necessary.”

Right as Boneshaker was about to shoot into open space, Jacob slapped the slip-drive engagement. She shuddered in protest, and there were a few warning lights that popped up, but the fields stabilized and the ship disappeared from real-space just as the station’s guns lined up on her.

“Please, tell me you delivered the package,” Jacob said.

Boneshaker had meshed-in well past the orbit of the eighth planet and sat idle as the damage control systems went over the slip-drive and starboard shield emitters.

“I was successful,” Tin Man said. “Assuming Loen Pyx was not lying to us, she should have access to their entire network.”

“You should always assume she’s lying to us,” Jacob said. “But, for now, I don’t think she’s trying to screw us.”

“Comforting.”

The priority hyperlink alert chimed again.

“Oh, yeah…and that’s been going off,” Jacob waved toward the com panel. “Want to take bets on who it is?”

“Are you going to accept the request?” Tin Man asked.

“No.”

“I think you need to.”

“You do it.”

“Captain…”

“Fine,” Jacob sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walked back to the small com room and accepted the channel request that had now been coming in nonstop for the last two hours.

“Am I bothering you, Captain?” an annoyed T’Cali Amon asked.

“You…are not who I was expecting,” Jacob said.

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” Amon asked.

“Partially. But mostly because I was trying to recover Tin Man. He ejected himself out of a water purge port on the Nivaven platform,” Jacob said. Amon just blinked at that.

“Was there a reason that he — You know what? Not important,” Amon said. “I had an interesting thing happen earlier. My wayward aide returned.”

“Similan is back?” Jacob asked. “That’s great! Right?”

“It wasn’t him,” Amon said. “It was an unbelievably good fake. Far more so than the Seeladas Dalton avatar.”

“Fully biotic?”

“How’d you know?”

“We have a few of our own floating around…including Admiral Webb,” Jacob said. “You still have it?”

“In a cold storage vault in this very building,” Amon said. “Why?”

“Because we have Loen Pyx waiting for the brain from one of these fakes,” Jacob said. “She’s promised us a method to remotely detect them if she can analyze it.”

“You trust her?”

“Absolutely not. But, for the moment, our goals parallel each other.”

“I’ll have it loaded up on a ship and headed your way,” Amon said. “All I ask in return is that you share whatever tech Dr. Pyx develops so that we can deploy it ourselves.”

“Deal,” Jacob said. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

“Watch your back, Captain.”

18

“I honestly never thought I’d actually be breathing this air again.”

MG tilted his head back and closed his eyes at the light from the star Sol that shined onto the Earth’s surface.

“Honestly? Me either,” Murph said. “Where’s your contact, Mitchell?”

“She’s on the way,” Glenn Mitchell said. “Just relax and enjoy the sun. Once she arrives, life gets much, much more complicated.”

“Sounds fun,” Mettler said.

They’d flown to Earth from Terranovus aboard a civil freighter, and then spent the next two weeks aboard the Aether Logistics Platform before they were able to be smuggled down to the surface on an atmospheric research craft. After that, it had been a long few days of riding in the back of road vehicles from the Black Hills Starport near Sturgis, South Dakota all the way down to Puerto Morelos, a small beach town in the Yucatan.

It seemed a strange place to try and hide out during a covert operation, but both Mitchell and Murph explained to the other two that towns with heavy tourist traffic from around the globe were easier to disappear in than a place where they would stand out and be memorable by the locals. MG wasn’t complaining. His mother’s people were of Mayan descent, and he felt completely at home in the breezy tropical climate.

“Would this be a good time to brief us on what the hell we’re doing here?” Mettler asked.

“Maybe later,” Mitchell said. “No point in telling you right now if this is a trap. The less you know, the less that can be tortured out of you.”

“Good point.”

MG helped himself to his fourth Corona from the cooler, drawing a look from Murph. MG stared into his eyes as he slowly reached over and popped the cap off on the opener mounted to the side of the cooler.

“We’re supposed to be blending in,” he reminded Murph. “I’m trying to look like a tourist.”

“You look like a degenerate,” Mettler said.

“Same thing.” Mettler shrugged. “You Americans have been coming down here and getting sloppy drunk and acting like fools for like a hundred years.”

“Americans?” Murph asked. “You were born in Texas, jackass.”

“An accident of geography.”

They lounged around on the deck of the rental villa for the rest of the afternoon before they heard the sound of car tires crunching in the gravel. Mitchell stood up and went to the rail, watching.

MG was painfully aware that they were unarmed, under-manned, and on the planet illegally. If this was the Federales pulling up, they were screwed. Well, Murph was screwed. The rest of them would probably be fast enough to get away. He wasn’t even sure what they were doing there or if he wanted to be a part of it.

With Sully gone, Murph injured, and Jake in the wind with Tin Man, he felt that the team, the thing he had unwavering loyalty toward, existed in name only anyway. He also didn’t trust Glenn Mitchell. The son of a bitch had lied to them and left them high and dry on a strange planet. Now, they were supposed to just take it on faith that all of this was on the up and up.

“It’s her,” Mitchell said.

The others stood up and waited as a tall woman in her late forties with short, silver hair and too much spray tan climbed out of the small SUV. She had the look of someone who hadn’t slept in some time, and her eyes darted around fearfully including up through the trees that surrounded the secluded villa.

“Bell,” Mitchell called. “Come on. Get inside.”

“These them?” the woman asked, waving at the Blackheart team. “Two and a half men?”

“Funny,” Murph said, his mobility harness whirring as he shifted his weight.

“He’s the brains of the operation,” Mitchell said. “Trust me, you’ll be glad he’s here.”

She came up the stairs and walked into the villa without even looking at them. Mitchell smiled and shrugged, following her in.

“What do you guys think?” Murph asked.

“We’re committed either way,” Mettler said. “They catch us here, we’re screwed. Let’s see where this goes.”

“Gentlemen, this is Bellina⁠—”

“No real names!” the woman hissed.

“Just call her Bell,” Mitchell said. “She worked for Ark-Light Defense where she was the head of Section Seven.”

“Their highly classified R&D division,” Murph said. “We had a bit of a primer on Ark-Light when they sent us to retrieve their rogue Atlas a while back. Supposedly, Section Seven is a myth.”

“It’s…real,” Bell said. “It’s so real that there are powerful forces in the galaxy trying to take it from us. That’s why I’ve been forced to rely on you a lot. It’s less than ideal, but we’re out of options.”

“These are some of the most highly trained specialists in the military,” Mitchell said. “Maybe just move ahead to explaining what the problem is and let them work on how to solve it.”

“Very well,” she said. “Where is the augment, by the way? I thought your group said you could wrangle his team.”

“Captain Brown is otherwise occupied,” Mitchell said. “But this is his team.”

“Pity since this ties back to his family,” Bell said. “Where to start…”

She seemed to zone out, staring off into space as if the others weren’t there.

“Maybe the beginning?” Murph asked impatiently.

“What? Oh, yes,” she said, still flustered. “Please, bear in mind what I’m about to divulge is the highest kept military secret. There’s not even a classification level for this. Just knowing it is dangerous. Do you still want to proceed?”

“Get on with it, lady,” MG said.

“In the years following the Ull invasion and our partnership with the Cridal, humans established our technical supremacy in the region. Specifically, our ability to design and build weapons and ships. Most humans think it’s because we’re just so damn clever, but the truth is we had some help.

“A human named Jason Burke—whom I believe you’ve met—had encountered the remnant AI of an ancient, hyper-advanced species called the Noxu. This AI gave him the entirety of their knowledge and in turn gave some of that to us. A basic searchable database was entrusted to Michael Welford by Burke in order to protect Earth as we emerged into the larger galactic community. That original system soon grew beyond its constraints and evolved into something…wondrous. We call it the Ark.”

“So…Ark-Light Defense,” Murph said. “A little on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Ark-Light is the primary custodian of the Ark, but other contractors are allowed access for their own projects,” Bell said. “Others found out about the Ark. Others who aren’t human…and they want it.”

“Are we here to head off an attack?” Mettler asked. “We seem a little light for that.”

“Of course not,” Mitchell said. “And stop fucking interrupting or this will take all day.”

“The Ark cannot be taken by force,” Bell continued. “Not in its current form. It has evolved into a fully self-aware AI that cannot be coerced or tampered with. Per Jason Burke’s directives to the original system, the Ark is loyal to humanity alone.”

“Then, what’s the problem?” Murph asked after Bell seemed to drift off again.

“The Ark can be fooled, for lack of a better term,” she said.

“Like if you had an exact copy of an authorized user,” Mitchell said.

“Ah, damn,” Mettler said, understanding.

“Okay,” Murph said. “But that still doesn’t explain⁠—”

“I have disabled the Ark,” Bell said. “Right now, they know that it has a problem, but they don’t know it was sabotage. I needed to buy time for Mitchell and his group to secure the real threat.”

“That being?” MG asked.

“The original interactive database that Jason Burke created,” Bell said. “The unsecured system that spawned the Ark. If someone were to get their hands on it, they would have the ability to create the same engineering archive powered by Noxu knowledge that we currently have. That is why you’re here.”

“Two questions,” Murph said. “First, why didn’t someone destroy the original since it’s such an obvious threat. Second, how does anybody know it exists?”

“The original was kept intact out of fear,” Mitchell answered. “Those in charge were given a great power, and they were terrified they might lose it. They decided to keep the original seeds of that power intact and hidden. The reason the people we’re trying to stop know it exists is speculation at this point, but we think that someone in their organization might be a human who was there when Burke handed it over that night in Nevada.”

Everyone fell silent for a time.

“This explains a lot,” Murph finally said. “The Dominion, the Avarians, even the Eshquarians…every superpower within reach of Earth will want to get their hands on an active piece of Noxu technology. The fact that someone knows this is what is driving our rapid expanse is bad. If they can’t take the Ark through subterfuge, they may enlist help from someone who can take it by force.”

“Told you he was smart,” Mitchell said to Bell. “You’re absolutely correct, Agent Murphy. Once knowledge of the Noxu became more widespread and more and more relics and ruins were found, the hunt has been on to find something they could use. If they knew what we had here? There would be no stopping them.”

“How did we suddenly find out about them?” Mettler asked. “There are ruins all over this galaxy.”

“Nobody is exactly certain,” Bell said, giving Mitchell a guarded look. “We know that the rumors and early expeditions came from Miressa Prime during the last days of the ConFed.”

“Not important,” Mitchell said. “What is important is getting the original Ark seed off this planet and somewhere safe. That’s where you come in.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” MG said.

Murph watched Mitchell and Bell carefully. It was expected that they knew much more than their quick and dirty briefing could cover, but he suspected there was a secret they were privy to that scared the hell out of them both. He hadn’t missed the look Bell had given Mitchell nor the slight shake of his head. For the next two hours, they hashed out the details of the mission, and Murph was relieved to learn they wouldn’t actually be tasked with stealing the object.

Bell told them that the Ark seed, as they’d taken to calling it, had never been kept near the Ark itself. In fact, it was somewhere that even the most powerful people in government had no idea about. She hinted at an attempt to steal the seed, which had led a select group to replace it with a fake and hide the device so another attempt couldn’t be made. Now, they wanted to get it off Earth altogether.

“Where is the device right now?” Murph asked.

“Moving to the rendezvous,” Bell said. “You’ll meet it there.”

“It’s important we knew that nobody was tracking us before we met up with the device,” Mitchell said. “We know that its chain of custody was clean, but we weren’t sure if they had eyes on us. That’s why we’ve been bouncing around.”

“Solid strategy,” Murph said. “The next obvious question, of course, is where are we taking it, and why did you need us specifically?”

“Trust, Agent Murphy,” Mitchell said. “We have no idea who is compromised, who isn’t even who they seem to be, and how deep the tentacles go. Ideally, we’d have all of Kill Team Blackheart, including the battlesynth, but we make do with what we have. As to where we’re taking it? No idea. We’ll decide that once you’re already away and nobody left here on Earth can be tortured for that information.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Mettler asked.

“Too risky and I have tasks here on Earth to make sure you get away without incident,” Mitchell said. “Hopefully, once your task is done, we’ll be laughing over another beer back at my place.”

“Let’s get at it, then,” MG said. “Too much time here by the beach and I’m not going to want to leave at all.”

19

“That is so disturbing.”

“Minister Amon said you only needed the head.”

Jacob and Tin Man looked through the transparent window of a cryo-cooled box that contained the head of Similan. Or at least the thing that had been pretending to be Similan. The eyes rolled back and the mouth hanging open.

“True,” Jacob said. “Do we have to sign for this or anything?”

“No, Captain,” the Eshquarian said bemusedly. “But Minister Amon asked me to remind you that anything that comes of this will need to be shared with the Empire.”

“He’ll get what he was promised,” Jacob said.

He and Tin Man were standing next to Boneshaker in the hangar bay of an Imperial Intelligence trawler. True to his word, T’Cali Amon had dispatched a ship almost immediately to meet Jacob at a location of his choosing. In order to save time, he picked the planet that Loen had given him as their rendezvous for her to collect the specimen. They would meet the Eshquarians in orbit, then fly down and drop off the head on the surface and, hopefully, be given something actionable that would help them zero in on where the ringleaders of this little operation in the meantime.

“The case has a fresh charge on it,” the crewman said. “You have another sixty-one hours before you either need to begin the thaw cycle or recharge the chamber. Any questions?”

“I think we’ve got it,” Jacob said.

“Then, if you wouldn’t mind,” the crewman gestured toward Boneshaker, “we have a schedule we’re trying to keep to.”

Jacob had hoped to hit the trawler crew up for some fresh provisions, but he could take a hint. They loaded up the head and quickly relaunched Boneshaker back into space. He let the ship drift away from the trawler on momentum, waiting until the Imperial ship engaged her engines and accelerated away.

As per Loen’s request, they waited for nearly four hours for the trawler to break orbit and mesh-out of the system. She was incredibly paranoid, but not without reason. T’Cali Amon would probably love to keep track of Loen Pyx even if he had no intention of making a grab for her. Her name had been catapulted to the notice of very powerful people after her mechanical Seeladas Dalton was revealed.

“They left two trackers on our ship,” Tin Man said.

“I saw the one,” Jacob said. “I’d have been insulted if they didn’t even try.”

“I do not understand,” Tin Man admitted.

“If they’re not going to even bother putting a tracker on our ship it means we’re not even important enough to keep tabs on,” Jacob said. “It would be insulting.”

“I cannot tell if you are being serious or not.” Tin Man stood up. “Do not answer. I would rather not know.”

He walked off the flightdeck and toward the dorsal airlock so he could go out and remove the trackers Amon’s people left on their hull. Jacob chuckled and sent a coded message through the local Nexus to Loen that the package was secured and inbound. The reply came back almost instantly, giving him precise landing coordinates.

The planet they were in orbit over wasn’t the one they’d dropped Loen off at, so Jacob assumed that either she had a ship stashed and moved or, more likely, they were about to hand the head over to an intermediary. The woman was nothing if not skilled at not being found if she didn’t want to be.

“There were actually three,” Tin Man said after cycling back through the airlock. “Two we were meant to find, and a third that they might have actually been trying to keep hidden.”

“Nah,” Jacob scoffed. “They knew you’d find them. Speaking of, how many did you leave on their ship?”

“Nine.” Tin Man slid back into the copilot seat.

“Nine?! What the hell?” Jacob laughed.

“I did not like their attitude,” Tin Man said. “Four of the trackers will be exceedingly difficult to find and are programmed to emit bursts of interference at random intervals. It will drive the crew crazy.”

“I like this new petty streak you’re developing.” Jacob smiled and took a sip of coffee.

“As you have told me on multiple occasions…taking the high road is fucking boring.”

Jacob was barely able to keep from spitting his coffee out, but the effort only redirected it down his windpipe. After a full minute of coughing the scalding liquid back out of his lungs, he wiped his eyes and executed their deorbit and landing script. By the time Boneshaker had oriented herself for an equatorial entry, he was still trying to catch his breath.

The landing site wasn’t a starport or an approved airfield, but it was a location that was authorized to accept direct-from-orbit landings. When Jacob got close enough, he saw that the entire area had been cleared and crews were everywhere doing the preliminary work for what would essentially be a prefabricated city.

The Epalauans had perfected the technique and were now selling their services to other worlds. They would design you a whole city right down to the color of the streetlights, you clear and prep the site for them, and then they’ll bring it all in on heavy lifters and install it.

On one mission, Jacob had watched as they installed a city the size of Colorado Springs in less than a week. It was all the rage with planetbound industries. They could have a purpose-built city plunked down right by where they operated ground-based factories. When and if they ever shut down or moved, they could sell it back to the host planet and be on their way. It was a smart way to attract better talent as they wouldn’t be required to live in temporary quarters or primitive camps.

“This works well to hide our arrival and departure,” Tin Man said.

“She doesn’t leave anything to chance, that’s for sure,” Jacob agreed. “We’re on VIP pad number six.”

“Scanning,” Tin Man said. “Nothing there. No ground car, no thermal signatures. Pad is clear.”

“Interesting,” Jacob said as he began the landing cycle.

Boneshaker was considered a small ship. She started life as an Eshquarian combat shuttle, which was an all-purpose vehicle for the Imperial Navy. It could be configured for delivering troops into a hot zone, light cargo, or a dozen other missions. But even as a small ship, she was still nearly thirty-five meters in length and weighed a couple hundred tons in 1G.

Bearing that in mind, Jacob was very careful as he set her down on a landing pad that he wasn’t certain was rated for their weight.

“We are not getting any inquiries from the worksite command center,” Tin Man said.

“Keeping the engines running just in case,” Jacob said. “Head back to the cargo hold by the package. I’ll stay up here in case Loen sends any further instructions. Jerking us around seems to be her new favorite hobby.”

He was about to begin active scans of the area when a transponder beacon popped up on his display. It was a small intra-atmospheric craft coming over the eastern ridgeline and heading on a direct course for them.

“Heads up,” he called over the intercom. “Got a little single pax jet inbound. Just give them the package. I’ll cover you with our guns from up here.”

“Copy,” Tin Man said.

As the small aircraft zipped across the valley, Jacob locked on and let the dorsal turret track it as it came in for a landing behind the shuttle. He watched on the display as Tin Man walked across with the cryo storage unit and handed it to the pilot. They spoke briefly, and then the aircraft lifted off and shot away the direction it had come.

The moment it was out of sight, his com panel lit up with an incoming slip-com channel request. Already knowing who it had to be, he just shook his head and accepted it.

“Hello, Loen,” he said as the channel stabilized and resolved.

“Captain,” she greeted with a smirk. “I see that you simply handed my prize over without any of your usual shenanigans.”

“Seemed pointless.” Jacob shrugged. “I’ll do twice the shenanigans the next time.”

“I’m sure,” Loen said. “Against all odds, you were successful at installing my crawler. When I heard what had happened on that platform, I assumed you had either failed or managed to get yourselves captured. Imagine my delight when you contacted me about a viable tissue sample.”

“And?” Jacob asked.

“This takes time, but I am gaining access,” she said. “Soon, it will be too late for them to try to kick me out. You were apparently stealthy enough that their operation on Nivaven is back to full production. After I learned of the mess you two had made, I assumed they would be shutting down and packing up.”

“You wouldn’t be reaching out unless you had something,” Jacob said. “What have you got, Loen?”

“Smart boy,” she said. “I might have the location of where they do the final integrations. This would be the last step before they’re activated and deployed.”

“You think the prisoners they’re copying are there?” Jacob asked.

“Highly doubtful,” Loen said. “It will also not be lightly guarded. I’m transmitting you a complete report of what I’ve been able to glean.”

“Thanks, Loen,” Jacob said as the data came in parallel to the video transmission. It began scrolling across one of his displays, and he could see it was fairly detailed.

“I… You are welcome,” she said, seemingly unsure how to respond to basic courtesy. “Was there anything else?”

“Not from me,” Jacob said. “We’ll be in touch.”

He checked the sensors and saw that nobody seemed to be paying them any attention so he took the time to scroll through the file Loen had sent. There was nothing concrete that pointed to a location for the integration facility, but she had been able to decrypt enough communications and catalogued individual references within those to make an educated guess.

There were many conversations about final stage product, which would most likely be the finished copies. The more he looked, the more he was impressed with their OPSEC. Nothing in their communications indicated they were anything but a small company that made widgets distributed to other companies to be incorporated into larger systems. It was only because Loen already knew who they were and what they were doing that allowed her to piece together what they were talking about.

“The ship is secure,” Tin Man said. “What is that?”

“Loen sent me a file of what she’s pulled so far from that bug you uploaded,” Jacob said.

“Actionable intel?”

“Yeah…sort of. I have a location for where we think they’re doing the final integration, but the intel she has indicates it’s a fortified facility. You and I aren’t enough to do much but get ourselves killed.”

“Alternatives?” Tin Man asked.

“Time to break radio silence,” Jacob said. “Let’s get into orbit, and then reach out and see what friends we have left.”

“Interesting hearing from you.”

“Reg,” Jacob said. “I took a shot that your personal hyperlink would still be secure.”

“Good guess,” Reggie Weathers said.

Over the next hour, the two sides caught each other up. Jacob was delighted to learn that the fake Webb was out of commission and that the Kentucky had been put to space and was in loyal hands. He was less delighted to find out that the remaining men of Blackheart had been sent to Earth on a covert mission. Two Scout Team operators and Murph struggling to get around in a mobility harness was hardly reassuring.

After they were both up to speed, Jacob filled them in on the integration facility and his plan to hit it. Reggie was skeptical but heard him out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take direct action, but this was an aspect of Scout Fleet he had no firsthand experience with. He had been assigned to Webb as an aide but had never flown a mission with any of the scout teams. Jacob kept this in mind and slowly worked him up to where he could see the obvious course of action.

“The Kentucky has a complement of eighty-seven Marines in her detachment,” Reggie said. “We also have the assault landers to get them on the ground quickly if needed.”

“I think our best bet will be to insert first, recon, and then let the Kentucky soften the target from orbit,” Jacob said. “Just be aware that once you open fire, you’ll have limited time to get the hell out of orbit and clear the system. If you can crack this nut, Tin Man and I should be able to handle the rest. It’ll turn into a basic smash and grab.”

“That sounds insane,” Reggie said.

“But doable,” Jacob insisted. “Putting Marines on the ground is too risky. We can’t let this point back to Earth. Just in case something goes sideways, I’ll need to give you Loen Pyx’s contact details. She still owes us, and you’ll need to make sure she delivers.”

“You’re sure this is how you want to do it?” Reggie asked. “I know you’ve pulled some crazy shit before, but it’s just the two of you.”

“Yeah, but we’re not your average pair.” Jacob gave a confident smile he didn’t feel. “We’ll be good. Just get Captain Duncan onboard with this and get the ship heading our way.”

“Good luck, Captain,” Reggie said before killing the channel.

“A two-man assault?” Tin Man asked.

“And a ship with big guns to take a whack at them first,” Jacob reminded him. “This will work. Trust me.”

“I wish I could sometimes.”

20

Webb was jolted awake.

He had no idea how long he’d been asleep. All he knew was that he’d gone to sleep in his cell and woke up strapped to a gurney that was vibrating from the familiar hum of a starship’s engines. Why were they moving him?

“Awake, I see.”

“Welford,” Webb greeted his malformed captor. “Holy hell, that face…can you wear a bag on your head when you come to see me?”

“I liked you better when you had no sense of humor,” Welford said. “Back when you were just an arrogant trigger puller you at least knew when to keep your mouth shut.”

“If you think I’m going to take etiquette advice from a traitor to his species, you have another thing coming.”

“I’m sure you see it that way,” Welford wheezed. “Humanity’s obsession with autonomy may be its downfall.”

“Spare me,” Webb snorted. “This is about power and control. The same as it was when you were helping Margaret Jansen. Don’t bore me with claims of some higher purpose.”

“I was right when I convinced them to replace you,” Welford said. “I told them you were not a man of vision…that you could never see the big picture. Soon, even your copy will be of no use to them. When that happens, I will have no use for you.”

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Michael,” Webb said quietly and stared at the ceiling. He listened as Welford clopped off, his unnatural gait receding down the corridor.

“You’ll need to forgive Mr. Welford,” a deep voice said from behind him. “He’s not the man he once was. When he was brought back, he was…less.”

Webb turned as the person he had no idea was in the room with him came around so he could see. He was a distinguished-looking Miressan. Perhaps middle-aged and impeccably dressed. This was likely the one in charge.

“So, you’re the big guy, huh?” Webb asked. “Miressan…so this is a Dominion operation?”

“Reasonable guess, but no,” the Miressan said. “The Dominion has the same problem as the Empire, the Cridal, and the rest…scrabbling to grab power, resources, and territory in the vacuum left by the ConFed.”

“And you’re different, eh?”

“In so many ways. Most notably in that we’re focused on a singular goal.”

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to convince me of something?” Webb asked.

“Michael Welford has nearly outlived his usefulness,” the Miressan said.

“I’m sure he’d be thrilled to hear that.”

“He would. He doesn’t appreciate being revived or being forced to remain alive. He wants to complete his task and be allowed to finish dying.”

“Damn,” Webb whispered. It put a whole new spin on the mental state his once-friend was in. He was a dead man walking who just wanted the walking to end.

“Indeed,” the Miressan said. “But that leaves me without a human liaison. The avatars we’ve been deploying have been useful in gaining access to sensitive materiel, but for the next phase a sharp, intact mind will be required.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask Grant.”

“And I’m sure he would like nothing more. He’s already hinted he’s open to a deal…”

“Typical.”

“…but he’s a politician not a leader. For what I need? My choice would be you.”

“I think you already know my answer,” Webb said, leaning back again. “I won’t be a traitor to my own people.”

“I wish I could tell you everything,” the Miressan said. “I wish I could make you understand that, if you worked with us, you would be saving your people, not betraying them. But time is not on your side and my superiors would not appreciate me divulging too much without assurances from you. We’ll be arriving shortly. I’ll make sure you’re fed well and comfortable for the time you have remaining.”

“Thanks,” Webb said sourly.

Once he was alone again, Webb reflected on the encounter. The Miressan was clearly trying to sell him on something, but he needed him to think it was a good idea. That he wanted it. Webb recognized all the tactics. Vague insinuations of an altruistic goal, hints of a treat that only they knew about, and an appeal to his sense of loyalty.

Many good people had been led down dark paths because they were convinced the thing they were doing was actually for the greater good. They repeated the lie so much that they actually believed it after a time. They had to. They certainly couldn’t look at themselves in the mirror and admit they were willingly duped into being a traitor for personal gain.

No.

Webb would face his end as a warrior. He would not compromise his principles and barter for his life by becoming the very thing he swore an oath against.

He drifted off to sleep, his mind at peace with whatever faced him when they reached their destination.

Murph stared out the window of the four-door SUV as they drove south toward the border into Belize.

“Once we get the Ark seed, we’ll be off-planet, and then the rest should be fairly easy,” Mitchell said. The comment sounded like it was made out of discomfort rather than an actual decision to talk. The Scout Team members had been silent since leaving the villa, and it was apparently making the outsider uncomfortable.

“Okay…spill it,” he finally said. “What’s going on?”

“You going to tell him?” MG asked.

“Your contact was lying,” Murph said. “Right now, we’re trying to figure out if you already knew that or not.”

Mitchell immediately grasped the danger he was in. The three Blackheart members wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if they thought he had sold them out.

“Now, wait a minute!” he said hotly. “Bell was vetted through our network and⁠—”

“She’s working for them,” Murph said calmly, still looking out the window. “We’re being set up.”

“For what?” Mitchell asked.

“The Ark seed. They still need it, so they’ll create a situation where they catch us trying to steal it and, in the confusion, it will disappear. We’ll take the fall and be enemies of humanity while they get the prize. The Ark can’t simply vanish without creating huge waves. They’ll need a plausible cover story for how it went missing.”

“But that would mean Bell is setting herself up to take the fall as well,” Mitchell argued.

“You really have been out of the game a while, haven’t you?” Mettler asked. “She’s playing two of the three sides against us. She’s working for the enemy trying to steal the Ark, and she’s also making sure the authorities will be in place to collect us. She’ll be a hero, we’ll be fucked, and whoever she works for will get what they want.”

“What about the fake Ark seed they left?” Mitchell asked.

“I didn’t say I had all the answers,” Murph said, “I just know a setup when I smell one.”

“You said she was vetted by your network,” Mettler said. “Not that she was a part of your network.”

“Yeah,” Mitchell said. “Oh…shit.”

“This might not be a setup for us,” Murph said. “They may be trying to take down your group.”

“Oh…shit,” Mitchell repeated.

“Did your people recruit her? Or did she approach you?” Murph asked.

“She approached us,” Mitchell sighed. “Which means that they already had us under observation to even know who we were.”

“Is Gabby in any danger?” MG asked.

“No. At least not yet. She’s protected on Terranovus, but since I’ve made direct contact with Bell twice, it’s clear they know who I am. I won’t be able to go back around my daughter without⁠—”

“One problem at a time,” Murph said. “I need you to focus. Become the guy who fooled and stranded a Scout Team on a planet so he could rescue his daughter. Shake the cobwebs out.”

“Yeah…yeah, I got it,” Mitchell said irritably. “So, what do we do? What would you do?”

“At our current strength with no weapons, armor, or support?” MG asked. “Get our ass off this planet. Get to safe harbor and regroup. We don’t do any good locked up in a black site dungeon in Antarctica.”

“He has a point,” Murph said. “What was our extraction method?”

“Need to know,” Mitchell said. “In other words, I don’t know. I was tasked with getting the Ark seed and make contact. I imagine the plan was much the same as how we got in.”

“Is there any possibility your communications aren’t blown?” Mettler asked.

“Not sure we’d want to chance it,” Mitchell said. “At least the non-hyperlink channels.”

“Is there any chance in hell the Ark seed that we’re supposed to be grabbing is real?” MG asked.

“As far as I know, it is,” Mitchell said.

“Then, we haven’t got a choice,” MG said. “We have to go for it. If we’re right, the enemy will also have a covert force there that will try to take it in the confusion of the exchange. If we dip out to save our own asses, what happens to the device?”

“You have a plan to go along with that pep talk?” Mettler asked.

“I actually sort of have an idea,” MG said. “Remember that agent from Homeworld Security the captain hooked up with after all the bullshit with that Atlas mech? The mission he got his hand chopped off on?”

“I wasn’t with him,” Murph said. “He came to Earth with Tin Man, and I don’t pay attention to you degenerates when you start swapping your dirty stories.”

“You’re missing out,” MG said. “Anyway, he said that she was a freak and⁠—”

“Is this an important part of the plan?” Mitchell asked.

“Probably not,” MG said. “Doesn’t really matter since I never caught her name. Hell, Cap may have been lying about it to impress me.”

“Ah, yes,” Mettler said. “The most likely of reasons.”

“I think I can actually help with this,” Mitchell said. “Homeworld Security is my old stomping grounds. You have any dates and specifics regarding this Atlas?”

After being sent multiple GPS coordinates with Orange Walk, Belize, they were eventually given the final meeting point.

“Com units are out,” MG said.

“So is the car’s GPS and our local Nexus connection,” Mitchell said. “We just entered a jamming zone. This will be the real location.”

“Good thing we have these,” Murph said, holding up his personal hyperlink. “Can’t jam something that doesn’t communicate in this dimension. Sending updates now.”

Mettler was driving as the rest prepared for what was coming. Murph hid the hyperlink unit within the workings of his mobility harness while MG and Mitchell took care of what meager weapons they’d been able to procure on the drive down.

“Just saw a skimmer to the east,” Mettler said. “Blacked out, hugging the trees.”

“There’s Bell,” Mitchell said.

Bell stood next to a vehicle with her arms crossed while another, larger van was parked nearby with people visible through the tinted windows. Mettler made some show of circling the area before coming to a stop near Bell’s car. Mitchell and MG climbed out and walked over while Murph and Mettler sat in the car.

“Shut it off,” Bell said tensely. “Everybody out.”

“Why?” Mitchell asked. “This is just a pickup.”

“This is what they say it is.” Bell waved to the other vehicle. “Everybody out. We do this their way.”

Mitchell waved to the others and waited as Mettler helped Murph out and joined the group. He really overplayed how much help was needed, and Murph made sure to look as clumsy and nonthreatening as possible without actually falling.

“What’s going on, Bell?” Mitchell asked.

“We’re taking a ride,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Mitchell put up a bit of a fight, not wanting to give it away that he knew Bell was getting ready to betray them, but not so much that her friends decided they weren’t worth the trouble. Two armed men got out of the larger vehicle and roughly searched them.

They pulled the knives MG was carrying, as well as the small .380 pistol Mitchell had in his front pocket. When they got to Murph they made some show of looking him over but clearly had no idea what was what on the mobility harness. After some grunting and shrugging, they just pointed them all to the van.

“Get in. Sit down and don’t talk,” one of them said.

“What is going on, Bell?” Mitchell asked. “This isn’t the plan.”

“Plans change,” Bell said. “The carrier is…skittish.”

“Makes sense,” Mitchell said, exchanging a look with Murph. “Okay, then. Let’s go get it so we can be on our way.”

21

“Inbound shuttle.”

“Yay!” Jacob yawned. “Another shuttle. How exciting.”

“I am beginning to believe you don’t understand what the scout part of Scout Fleet actually means,” Tin Man said.

“To be fair, I think we’re still a Kill Team,” Jacob said. “But yeah…I never really did take a liking to this sort of reconnaissance.

The pair had been squatting in an empty building that was less than a klick from their target. It gave them direct line-of-sight so brought in some equipment from Boneshaker and started around the clock surveillance. The ship itself was stashed nearby in an industrial park that had its own private landing pad.

It had been four days and, so far, nothing overtly suspicious in the comings or goings of the building they were watching. They had shuttles coming in for direct drops at irregular intervals, but whatever was being taken into the building was in transit containers. Jacob didn’t think this new arrival would be any different, but he dutifully sat up and looked at the monitor.

“This one is different,” he said. “That’s military. The others were all commercial cargo carriers.”

The shuttle was on the ground, and several people were being led out along with one strapped to a gurney. Jacob ordered the computer to attempt identification without any real hope that they would be known in their database. The optics zoomed in, and the computer began chewing through the data, trying to match up the partial profiles it managed to capture.

“They appear to be prisoners,” Tin Man said.

“That would fit in with the whole evil shadowy organization thing,” Jacob said. “I wonder if they⁠—”

“Two confirmed matches,” the computer interrupted. “One partial match at eleven percent certainty.”

“That was fast,” Jacob said, moving over to look at the monitor. “Holy shit…holy shit! He’s here!”

“Marcus Webb, eighty-seven percent match,” Tin Man read.

“Similan is also here. Ninety-eight percent match,” Jacob said, his mind racing. “The other is… What the fuck? That doesn’t make any sense. Michael Welford?”

“He is assumed to be dead,” Tin Man said. “Your father is not known to leave these matters to chance. It is only an eleven percent match.”

“I dunno,” Jacob said, bringing up the image. “Look at that face. It definitely looks like it might have hit a desk at high velocity a few times. What do you think? Could someone have found him in time to bring him back after my dad and Crusher hightailed it out of the area?”

“Plausible,” Tin Man said. “We should notify the Kentucky. It would be awkward if someone fired prematurely and killed our commanding officer.”

“Yeah, that tends to be tough to explain to a promotion board,” Jacob said.

They had a full-time hyperlink connection to the Kentucky, so it was just a matter of sending a call request for Reggie and prepping the visual files for transmission. He checked and saw it was 0842 ship’s time so everybody should be up and caffeinated.

“Go for Weathers,” Reggie said a few seconds after the request went out. “Just checking in or have something good for me, Captain?”

“I’m sending you some images now,” Jacob said. “You’re not going to believe this…Webb and Similan are here. Now. They were just unloaded from an unmarked military shuttle.”

There was silence on the other end as Reggie looked at the images and the corelating data from the computer.

“That was a close call,” he finally said. “I’m guessing we no longer want to hit that position from orbit. Who’s this other guy? Michael Welford? That cannot be the same Michael Welford I’m thinking of.”

“If that’s who it really is, then yeah. Former NIS Director Michael Welford. Killed under suspicious circumstances in his own office on Olympus and suspected collaborator of Margaret Janson and One World.”

“Suspicious, huh?” Reggie snorted. “I heard some rumors about that. So, what do you want to do about Webb? We probably want to move fast.”

“Can you get your Marines down here without drawing too much attention?” Jacob asked.

“All of them?” Reggie asked.

“Better roll in heavy,” Tin Man said. “APCs as well.”

“I’ll get them moving,” Reggie exhaled loudly. “This is hardly my specialty. I’ll have the detachment commander contact you and coordinate the drop. Keep eyes on if they move Webb back to the shuttle in case we need to intercept it.”

“We’re on it,” Jacob said. “Just don’t waste any time. He wasn’t walking under his own power. That’s usually not a great sign.”

They closed the active channel and kept the datalink open. Jacob stood and slipped on the loose coat that concealed his weapons and gear.

“I’ll go back to where we parked Boneshaker,” he said. “You stay here and keep an eye on them.”

“I can get there faster,” Tin Man said.

“You also draw too much attention when you’re skulking about,” Jacob said. “By the time they’re ready to begin dropping the landers, I’ll have had plenty of time.”

He slipped in his earpiece and checked his weapons one more time before walking out the door. The walk to the industrial park was uneventful, and he was able to scope out a large landing area that was concealed behind a row of multi-story automated production facilities. He pulled his com unit and took multiple pictures and precise coordinates to send up to the Kentucky. The element of surprise was going to be critical in keeping Webb safe.

Reggie must have really lit a fire under the detachment because, in less than an hour, the first of the landers came lumbering over the line of buildings to the east, opening the deployment doors on their bellies and releasing the armored personnel carriers when they were fifty meters up. The APCs fell a short way before repulsors fired and brough them down for a nice soft landing where they quickly rolled out of the way to make room for the next wave.

Five of the Kentucky’s Mud Dog M988 APCs were lined up and ready to roll out in short order. Jacob approached the lead vehicle as the rear ramp dropped. A Marine major walked out and looked him over.

“Captain Brown.” He nodded. “I’m Major Santino. You ready to get the boss back?”

“We need to stop and grab my partner,” Jacob said as he shook hands and climbed up into the vehicle.

“Is the delay necessary?” Santino asked.

“He’s a battlesynth.” Jacob smiled. “Trust me, it’s worth the time.”

Webb and Similan sat in the same cell together, which was a change from when they were kept carefully isolated at their last location.

“This holding cell was hastily and poorly constructed,” Similan said. “They do not normally keep prisoners at this facility.”

“Does that help us?” Webb asked.

“Do you have a cybernetic hand like your subordinate, Captain Brown?”

“Nope.”

“Then, it is merely an observation.”

Webb closed his eyes and leaned back as the last lingering effects of the sedative they’d pumped into him wore off. Similan also sat still, but Webb could feel his eyes roaming over the enclosure, looking for an exploitable weakness. Webb wasn’t so worried about escape. He figured at that point he didn’t have a long time to live anyway, so he was just waiting for an opportunity to get his hands on Welford to finish the job that Jason Burke didn’t.

“Do you hear that?” Similan asked.

“No, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Webb said. “My hearing was shit before they started experimenting on me. What’s it sound like?”

“I am unsure,” Similan said as people began yelling from somewhere within the facility. They could also hear running footsteps, but where their cell was didn’t give them a view of anything but the opposite wall through the thin slot they pushed food through.

A few minutes after the initial excitement, Webb thought he felt a faint rumble through the floor. He looked at Similan questioningly just before the building shook and dust rained down from the ceiling.

“Interesting,” he said, standing up and stretching.

Maybe this was his opportunity.

“The shuttle is firing engines,” Jacob said.

“Sergeant Evers!” Santino barked. “The shuttle. Just disable it don’t destroy it.”

The double-barrel turret on top of APC swung over and opened fire. Jacob watched on the display as the cannons stitched up the starboard nacelle and then hit the aft strut. Coolant vapor came billowing out and power was cut to the engine emitter. The hatch of the shuttle opened, and six people ran out along with a cloud of black smoke.

“Shuttle disabled but intact,” Evers reported.

“Excellent job, Sergeant,” Santino said.

“Sir!” a corporal called from the front of the Mud Dog. “Kentucky reports a light cruiser dropping to a transfer orbit. It could be heading our way.”

“Understood,” Santino said, keying the open channel. “All units advance.”

The APCs rushed over the last stretch, flattening the fence and fanning out around the main entrances. The gun turrets all covered the spots that were identified as possible hidden gun emplacements as the Marines poured out the rear exits. Tin Man was among the first out of the lead vehicle while Jacob came out with Major Santino.

“Breach!” the major ordered.

One of the vehicles fired a low-power burst from its cannon that blasted the entry door from the frame. Still, no enemy fire came from the building as the armored Marines moved forward. Tin Man, now in combat mode, was about to make entry when he moved quickly to the side and pulled three Marines down with him.

“Contact!” he shouted over the confusion just as enemy fire poured out of the ruined doorway. As they’d suspected, three of the blacked-out windows blew outward as large-bore plasma cannons opened up. Several Marines were caught in the open and were mowed down before the Mud Dog crews could return fire with their own cannons.

Jacob was pinned down behind one of the vehicle wheels, but he could see the doorway and watched as Tin Man stood and leapt inside. Between the smoke and crossfire, it was likely the enemy hadn’t even seen him.

“Second squad, advance!” Santino ordered. “Secure the entry!”

Second squad, all of them wearing heavier power armor, began pushing forward. The Mud Dogs had silenced the bigger guns, but not without sustaining damage. Two had their own turrets disabled and one was burning, its crew working to get it under control.

“I’m going in!” Jacob shouted to Santino.

“I need you here, Captain.”

“I’m useless back here,” Jacob said. “I’ll go to the second floor and work down.”

“How…”

Jacob was already gone, pushing himself to full speed and leaping. He flew through the window of one of the wrecked gun emplacements with room to spare, landing among the still-smoking ruins of the weapon with a solid thump. He shouldered his weapon and took out the two gun crew that were still moving.

“Blackheart is in,” he transmitted. “Clearing second floor.”

“Tin Man moving,” came over the channel. “Heading up.”

Jacob moved out into the corridor and switched his ocular implants to short-wave infrared so he could see through the smoke. He immediately saw two combatants feeling their way around, both injured and unable to see him. Two shots each took care of them.

He could hear the fighting down on the first level and the com chatter had the Marines systematically moving in and securing the building. It wasn’t an especially large facility, but there had been no registered plans for it so they were forced to move in blind that chewed up valuable time.

The next room up had two Miressans in lab coats, both coughing and rubbing their eyes. Neither were armed, so he walked in and hit the one on the head, dropping him instantly and shoved his weapon in the face of the second.

“Prisoners!” he barked. “Where are they?”

“There aren’t any⁠—”

Jacob shot her in the left arm. She screamed as the appendage smoked and hissed from the close-quarters plasma bolt. It looked to be hanging on by a few bits of soft tissue.

“Prisoners!” he said again, pressing the end of the weapon into her forehead.

“The end of the east wing,” she sobbed. “By the scan room.”

“Which floor?”

“Ground!”

“Tin Man, prisoners in the end of the east wing, first floor,” he said. “I’m heading toward you.”

“Copy.”

“Please!” the Miressan begged. “Help me!”

Jacob slammed the butt of his weapon into her forehead, knocking her out next to her partner. Even though they were non-combatants, they were still involved in an operation that was abducting and replacing people in an effort to destabilize foreign powers. He felt no remorse for the damage he’d inflicted.

The news of Webb’s location caused a lapse in concentration, and he rushed out of the room without checking the corridor first. Even as he realized the mistake he’d made, a plasma blast slammed into his chest and knocked him off his feet. The ablative layers of his armor dispersed the energy and sloughed off as he rolled back into the room.

His chest burned in mild discomfort, but he counted his blessings. If it had been a headshot, he wouldn’t be feeling a thing. His armor was now spent. Whatever had hit him had enough force to cook away all the protective layers and one more would pierce it without trouble.

“What the fuck did he hit me with,” he grumbled as he pulled a grenade off his harness, armed it, and tossed it out toward where the fire had come from. As soon as it exploded, he rolled back out the doorway in a crouch. Like everyone else in the facility, the shooters couldn’t see through the dust and smoke that the grenade kicked up. The pair had been carrying an enormous plasma cannon that required at least two people to operate. Jacob realized how lucky he was they’d hit him square in the chest.

After dispatching the two, he charged through the smoke to a rear exit that he hoped would take him to a stairwell down to the first level. It took a moment longer than he would have liked, but he eventually came to a door to an emergency stairwell that was between the east and north wings of the building.

He descended rapidly and found that the door leading into the building could only be opened from the inside. The open tac channel was organized but crowded with individual elements calling out their positions and movements. He listened for a few seconds before giving up on trying to give a warning and firing his weapon into the latching mechanisms located top and bottom.

The security door was stout but not blast-rated and the plasma rifle made short work of the alloy. After the third shot, Jacob was able so yank it open enough to squeeze inside. He entered the east wing just in time to see Tin Man engaging with armored troops that looked far more elite than the ones the Marines first encountered. They had him pinned down in an alcove.

“Coming up behind right,” he said, switching his weapon to maximum power and opening fire.

His first few shots knocked troops off their feet and provided the distraction needed for Tin Man to break cover and engage with his arm cannons. The battlesynth rushed to close the distance so fast that, before they could regroup, he was in the middle of them. Jacob no longer had a clear lane of fire so he also sprinted toward the fray before they swarmed his friend under.

Tin Man wasted no time. Their armor was tough but just not up to the task of protecting the wearer from the damage a battlesynth fist could deliver. Two went down quickly before the remaining four broke off and retreated farther down the corridor. Jacob could see them moving into a protection formation but wasn’t sure what they were hiding.

“Hold!” a commanding voice shouted out. The troopers moved aside and a well-dressed Miressan stepped into view. “You must be Captain Jacob Brown. Your exploits proceed you.”

“I’ll bet,” Jacob said, not sure what else to say. He saw the man the computer identified as Michael Welford hovering in the background, glaring at him. “You in charge?”

“You could say—” Jacob snapped his weapon up and fired, his shots impacting an energy shield before reaching the target.

“Son of a…” Jacob had never heard of personal energy shields being made practical.

“As I was trying to say,” the Miressan continued, unruffled, “you have a choice to make. You have time to try and take me and my associate, or you can try to save your mentor. You have time for one of these things, not both.”

Jacob understood what that meant at once.

“Major Santino, withdraw your men!” he said over the command channel. “They’ve rigged the building. Get everyone out!”

22

Special Agent Andrea Dubinski hoped she wasn’t being played for a fool.

A few years ago, she had been a junior agent with Homeworld Security, a new agency that had still been trying to settle into where it fit within the overall enforcement picture on Earth, when she’d been assigned to help a covert Navy operation. Before that, she had never heard of Scout Fleet, had barely heard of a company named Ark-Light Defense, and definitely had never heard of an ultra-secret system they called the Ark.

What had seemed like a random assignment had quickly changed the course of her career and drastically altered her view of humanity’s role in the larger universe. Being introduced to a young Marine officer named Jacob Brown and being briefed on the mission he’d just come back from made her realize just how big the galaxy was and how small Earth was by comparison.

After they had arrested an Ark-Light employee named Jackie Stevens who had been trying to facilitate the theft of the Ark, or at least some piece of it, Andrea’s life became inextricably linked to the enigmatic machine. She’d even met it a few times. Since she had already been told its nature by the Scout Fleet officer, Homeworld Security decided she would make the perfect special agent in charge for anything dealing with the alien-based AI known colloquially as the Ark.

It was an easy job, to be honest. The Ark was not something easily stolen. Besides having to live in a distributed processing system that filled an entire warehouse, the Ark itself was sentient. It was loyal to humanity by design, and it couldn’t be convinced to work against the interests of Earth.

It was in the midst of this boring assignment that Andrea had received a message out of the blue from someone claiming to be a teammate of Captain Brown. After using her connections to verify that Alonso Murphy was, indeed, who he said he was, she listened in some disbelief as he described yet another attempt to take the original software that had spawned the Ark in the first place.

Erring on the side of caution, however, she did as Murphy asked and pulled a QRF tasking, jetting off toward Belize on nothing more than a little faith.

“The tracking data is showing they’re moving, but not very fast,” one of her techs said. “Ground based transportation most likely.”

“Keep us out of detection range until they stop again,” Andrea ordered. “We get there too early and we screw the whole thing up.”

“Copy that,” the pilot said and angled the aircraft to the right.

They’d been flying in large loops while keeping their closest pass to the tracking data well outside of what they considered the maximum detection range of anybody with ground-based sensors.

“You sure about these guys, ma’am?” one of her QRF operators asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“I’ve heard rumors. This guy Murphy was former NIS. His Scout Fleet team has been mixed up in some crazy shit going all the way back to One World, if you know who they were.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Andrea said.

“I talked to a buddy before we left, and he said this team is actually now a designated Kill Team called Blackheart,” the operator said. “Told me that their team leader and his battlesynth buddy went rogue. Nobody’s seen or heard from them in months.”

“Your point?”

“These are some serious dudes who are into some serious shit, if you take my meaning. If we get there and it don’t smell right⁠—”

“I read you,” Andrea said. “But if what he says is true, the risk is too great for us not to check it out. If it comes down to us or them, we make sure our people come home.”

Andrea leaned back in her seat feeling less confident than she did a moment ago. Before, she was only worried about looking like a fool for requesting tactical support for something that would end up being a bust. Now, she realized that it could cost her a lot more.

What it came down to was how much she trusted Jacob Brown. Their fling had been necessarily brief, but she never got the sense he was someone who would burn a friend. If his team had reached out to her, it had to be because he’d told them she was someone they could trust.

“Get out,” Bell said. “We wait here.”

“I’m not getting a warm fuzzy about this, Bell,” Mitchell said.

“I’m here to do a job, Glenn,” Bell said in a pained voice. “I’m not here to make you feel better about yourself.”

They stood around for less than ten minutes before another group of vehicles rolled up. Murph watched as six men climbed out and walked toward them. They were all heavily armed, and one carried a case like you would expect to transport a small hard drive in.

“I thought this was just a friendly exchange,” he said. “Why do they get all that hardware and we got the full cavity search?”

“I’m only following instructions,” Bell said. She was looking around and tilting her head as if she was listening for something.

“Inbound aircraft,” Mettler said. “Friends of yours?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Bell said. “Let’s get this exchange done, and then we can⁠—”

Before she could answer, more vehicles burst from foliage. These were all marked with the blue bowtie insignia of the Belize Defence Force and moved quickly to cut off all routes of escape. The man holding the case nodded to Bell just before he and his people opened fire on the BDF vehicles.

“Get the case!” Bell yelled, but it wasn’t to Murph or his team. As expected, one of the men who had abducted them ran to grab the case as more people piled out of vehicles, diving for cover as weapons fire intensified.

“Can I play now?” MG asked.

“By all means,” Murph said as he retreated backward out of the fray, keeping as low as his mobility harness would allow.

There were two of Bell’s people still guarding them, using the vehicle as cover. MG reared back and drove his foot into the side of the nearest one’s knee, breaking the joint with a nauseating crunch. As his partner turned at the sound, Mettler punched him in the throat, dropping him.

“She should have hired pros not posers,” MG said, pulling the sidearm from the man he’d crippled and tossing it to Mitchell before taking the rifle. Mettler handed Murph the other pistol and shouldered the second rifle.

“Should I pop Bell?” he asked.

Mitchell’s answer was drowned out as a black assault craft roared in to hover over the clearing, its engines creating a downdraft that threw debris everywhere. Murph watched as ten Homeworld Security troopers fast-roped down into the engagement while the assault craft’s guns took out two of the SUV’s that attempted to flee.

“This is Homeworld Security,” a voice boomed from the craft. “Drop your weapons and standby to be—” Something streaked from behind the second group of vehicles and slammed into the underside of the craft.

“Missile!” MG shouted. “Get down!”

The assault craft listed badly to the left, losing stability as it spiraled into the trees, seven of the troopers still hooked to their ropes. Murph watched in horror as it went down with a gut-wrenching sound of tortured metal and cracking trees. He looked and saw that MG was taking advantage of the distraction and killed two more of the group that was engaged with the BDF.

Unfortunately, the group of mercs had better toys than the Belize military, and it wasn’t long before all three of their vehicles were burning hulks. The four Homeworld Security troopers, all of them wearing armor and loaded for bear, made short work of the remaining men Bell had brought and were moving into the trees, intent on flanking whoever the hell had brought the case.

“Here’s our chance,” Mitchell said. “I’m going for the Ark, you cover me.”

“No!” MG pulled him backward and pushed the rifle into his hands, taking the pistol. “I’ll go, you cover.”

“Don’t worry,” Mettler said. “He’s short. Harder to hit.”

MG took off at a spring, sliding through the dirt and grabbing the case only to find it was chained to the wrist of a man who wasn’t quite dead yet but still wasn’t keen on giving it up. Without hesitation MG shot him in the face, and then put four rounds through the wrist at close range, shredding the bone and connective tissue enough that he could rip the hand free with the case.

“They see him!” Mettler said, rising and opening fire just as three men across the clearing also broke cover and took aim at MG.

Mitchell and Mettler laid down suppressing fire, but they were only two guns, and MG took a round in the left thigh before he could make it back to them. He sprawled out onto the ground, the case tumbling. Bell, seeing an opportunity, ran for it. She was apparently confident Mitchell wouldn’t shoot her.

She was mistaken.

Mitchell lined up and fired, taking her right knee out and dropping her well short of the case. Before he could move back to make sure the remaining men at the vehicles didn’t come in a rush, more troopers from Homeworld Security crashed onto the scene looking bloody and battered but still ready to dish it out.

“Must be the survivors,” Mettler said. “I’m going to grab MG!”

The fight receded around the vehicles of the men who brought the case, but the outcome was inevitable after more Homeworld Security troops arrived. In short order, they were boxed in and shredded, only two of them willing to surrender.

“Which one of you is Murphy?” one of the troopers shouted.

“Stay here,” Murph said. “Keep the case hidden for now.” He walked out from cover and raised his hands. “I’m Murphy. You with Agent Dubinski? Is she okay?”

“She’s injured but alive,” the trooper said. “They’re bringing her up now. Any other threat in the area?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Murph said. He pointed to Bell. “She’s wounded but needs to be restrained. The rest are all dead.”

“Hey!” a shout came from behind the vehicle.

“Oh, and one of mine was shot. Took a round in the leg,” Murph said. “He’s already full of medical nanites so he shouldn’t bleed out.”

“You mind getting all your people out here where I can keep an eye on them?” the trooper asked. “No offense, but I’m not really in a trusting mood at the moment.”

“Understandable,” Murph said, turning and waving for everyone to come out. “You lose anybody?”

“Seven.”

“Fuck…I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

It took a bit of time for everyone still alive from the assault craft wreckage to be brought into the clearing and laid out for medical care. Agent Dubinski had broken a leg in three places, but no internal injuries the scanners could detect. The pilot, copilot, and weapons operator were all dead, as well as four of the troopers who had still been clipped onto the ropes when the aircraft went down. Everyone else was banged up but alive.

The scene was confusing, to say the least. Murph knew that Bell was at least a double agent, possibly a triple. Her people were the ones who had brought them here, but so were the ones who brought the case with the Ark seed. Probably. Then, there was Agent Dubinski’s group, who trusted none of them. At least the Scout Fleet personnel weren’t in restraints like the others were, which was something at least.

“Agent Dubinski wants to speak with you,” one of the Homeworld Security troopers said to Murph. When Mitchell stood up, he put a hand out. “Just him.”

Murph nodded to Mitchell and walked over to where Andrea was lying on a stretcher they’d brought up from the downed assault craft. Her eyes were glassy, but she looked alert.

“I need a moment alone with Agent Murphy, Sergeant,” she said. “Please, see to the others.”

“Ma’am.” The trooper walked back to where the other prisoners were being organized and treated.

“How do you feel?” Murph asked.

“No time,” Andrea said. “Support is on the way, and there are going to be some uncomfortable questions once they get here. Did this all go down more or less how you thought?”

“Pretty much,” Murph said. “Bell sold out us and the people who delivered the Ark seed. The BDF trucks were a nice touch, but they’re not actually military. They’re contractors working for⁠—”

“Got it.” Andrea waved him off. “Want to hear something crazy? The Ark predicted all this.”

“What…”

“I talked to it—at its request—some months ago. It told me of the vulnerability that existed with the seed drive and knew that someone was coming to steal it from humanity. It instructed me to let it be put in play and that you would be coming to collect it.”

“Me?” Murph asked.

“Not you specifically,” she corrected. “But someone from Admiral Marcus Webb’s group. It thought it might have been Captain Brown, or maybe it just hoped it would be. Either way, it said you would know how to keep it safe but that it couldn’t stay on Earth.”

“And you take your orders from it?” Murph asked.

“It’s…complicated,” Andrea said, wincing against the pain. “Just know that it’s far more than just a computer designing spaceships and guns. It is mapping out our entire strategic doctrine, and it is well aware Earth’s enemies are moving against us to get to it. Few people know this because…well…”

“Because the Ark can’t determine if they’re really who they say they are,” Murph said. Andrea’s mouth dropped open. “Right?”

“How…”

“We’re working that same problem. It’s what Captain Brown is doing right now. The Ark knew there were imposters?”

“Yes, but not specifically who. When an engineer tried to lock it down, it became suspicious. It allowed her to think it was disabled while it monitored the situation.”

“What does it want me to do with the seed?”

“It didn’t say,” Andrea admitted. “Only that it couldn’t stay here, and it couldn’t be destroyed. Can you do it?”

“I’ll get it done,” he said. “Now, lay back and be still. You don’t want to make that leg worse and end up in one of these things like me.”

“Go,” she said. “Leave the outer case, and I’ll try to handle the rest.”

Murph hustled away, his thoughts conflicted. He had some inkling of how powerful, and dangerous, Noxu AIs could be after being briefed by Jacob’s father on a system called the Machine that had damn near succeeded in conquering the quadrant. Learning that another sentient system was at the heart of Earth’s defenses was more unsettling than anything else.

The Machine had been a purpose-built AI by the Noxu that had been corrupted. The Ark, from what he understood, was an accident that sprang up thanks to Jason Burke’s reckless tinkering with things he didn’t understand.

At this point, he didn’t see as he had much choice. Getting caught when more Homeworld Security showed up would only mean a jail cell and endless interrogations. In the short term, it made sense to grab the seed and activate Mitchell’s exfil plan to get them off Earth and back to Terranovus. After that, hopefully people with a better view of the big picture would take over, and he would be relieved of his charge. What he had learned from Andrea Dubinski had left him shaken.

What if the Ark had ulterior motives?

23

Webb heard the explosions and fighting getting closer and knew that, one way or another, his captivity was coming to an end.

Similan was also listening but made no move nor offered any insight he might have. Webb figured it was equal odds whether this was another faction looking to take out his captors or it was his people coming to get him after successfully tracking him down. It wasn’t until the alloy door was ripped from its frame by powerful battlesynth hands that he knew which it was.

“Tin Man!”

“Admiral,” the battlesynth greeted him. “Similan. We must leave immediately. The building has been rigged to blow. Can you run?”

“Lead the way,” Webb said, pushing Similan out the door ahead of him. When he came to the main corridor, he saw Captain Brown covering their retreat, his chest armor scorched and smoking.

“Admiral,” Jacob said, his voice choked. “Thank God.”

The look of relief and joy on the Marine’s face when he saw him gave Webb’s heart a jolt. Being the leader was difficult, and it could be lonely. You did things because they were the right thing to do not because they were popular. One wanted to be respected, but to know that men like Jacob fought their way to him because they cared about him was a different feeling entirely.

“Major Santino says we’re clear all the way out,” Jacob said, already turning to run. “He sent a squad after our runners, but they had an escape route already set up.”

“Did they see the other human?” Webb asked. “The one that looked like he tried to make out with a running lawnmower?”

“Welford? Yeah…he got away. Was that really him?”

“It was.”

Jacob had some questions about that, but it seemed more important to get clear before the explosive charges detonated. They were just making it through the entrance the Marines had punched through the wall when the first booms began from the rear of the wing they were holding Webb in.

The destruction from the charges was targeted and minimal. Rather than needlessly draw attention to themselves with an explosion that could be seen from orbit, the people running the facility had only rigged the critical areas with both plasma and concussive charges. Nothing of use was left behind.

“Admiral, a pleasure to see you, sir,” Major Santino said. “Unfortunately, we’ve stayed a little longer than we planned and caught the attention of local law enforcement.”

“How long to get the landers back here?” Jacob asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” Santino said. “We can bring them directly down, but it still takes a few minutes to load up.”

“We’ll get the admiral out on Boneshaker,” Jacob said. “We can’t risk the locals getting here before he’s evac’d.”

“I will retrieve the ship,” Tin Man said. “It will be faster.”

Without waiting for an answer, he fired his repulsors at full power and rocketed away on a long ballistic arc.

“I didn’t know they could fly,” Santino said.

“They can’t,” Jacob said. “Think of it more as a really long jump. One more, and he should come down right by where we parked out ship.”

“Do we have time to search the rest of the building?” Similan asked.

“No,” Santino said firmly. “We’ll be pushing it to get the haulers clear of the area and back up to orbit before the locals really start wondering what the hell is going on. This area seems to be willing to look the other way for much, but there are limits.”

Jacob heard the distinct sound of Boneshaker’s engines before he saw the ship coming in low over the buildings. Tin Man came in hot, flaring at the last moment and dropping the ramp before bringing the ship into a low hover. He directed Webb and Similan to the ship and nodded to Santino, trying, and failing, to not let his eyes rest on the four covered bodies of the Marines who fell during the assault.

“Get him back to the Kentucky,” Santino said. “We’ll do our best, but if it comes down to it, tell Captain Duncan to get clear. Don’t wait for us.”

Jacob leapt onto the ship and flipped up the lever to close the ramp. Even before he had made it out of the small cargo hold, he could feel the engines power up as Tin Man turned and raced north away from the area.

“How is he?”

“Exhausted. Slightly on the side of malnourished but otherwise okay,” Commander Hetherly said. He was the ship’s chief medical officer and was directly supervising Admiral Webb’s treatment. “We pulled out two trackers and tossed them into space. For right now, I’d recommend letting him sleep. When he wakes up, he’s going to be a bit disoriented.”

“That will be up to him,” Jacob said as he saw his boss stir though the window.

The flight up to the Kentucky had been uneventful. Recovering the Marines had been less so. The assault landers were powerful and capable within an atmosphere, but once in orbit, their performance dropped off and they weren’t equipped with slip-drives. Captain Duncan had been forced to slow and drop the Kentucky out of their orbital lane to recover them, forcing him to push the ship hard in order to avoid the two interceptors that the local authorities had sent after them.

One thing they were never able to identify was a ship that the enemy might have been using. However Welford and the Miressan holding his leash had escaped, they were subtle about it. Jacob had half-expected them to have a capital ship that would be on the Kentucky the instant Boneshaker made it to her hangar bay.

“How about the Eshquarian? The one that came up with the Admiral?”

“He’s fine, but he’s not Eshquarian,” Hetherly said. “We have him in a separate room and under guard currently.”

“What do you mean?” Jacob frowned.

“He looks like an Eshquarian, but it’s cosmetic. Very good cosmetic surgery, but the blood doesn’t lie. He’s actually a Maaker.”

“Very interesting.”

“Brown! Get your ass in here!” Webb’s muffled voice came through the glass.

“Guess he’s getting his strength back,” Jacob said.

He walked into the room as Webb was adjusting the bed up and looking at his IV hookups with disgust.

“What the hell took you so long?” he grumbled.

“They were pretty good at hiding you, sir,” Jacob said. “It took longer than we would have liked to pick up the trail. We also had to call in some favors.”

“Favors with who?” Webb asked.

“Better you don’t know, sir.”

“Jesus, Jacob…you’re too reckless.”

“I’ve got it under control, sir,” Jacob said. “It’s worth it to get you back. Reggie has compiled a full briefing package for you when you’re feeling up to it. You’ve missed a lot.”

“We’d better get at it, then,” Webb said, looking over Jacob’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

“Sir,” Reggie said, rushing into the room. “A delight to see you up and about, but we have a developing situation.”

“Go,” Webb said.

“We’ve made contact with the remainder of Blackheart,” Reggie said, looking at Jacob. “They were tasked on a covert mission back to Earth, and we’ve confirmed that there was an attempt to take the Ark seed.”

“Dear God…”

“Murph is in possession of the device and is on the way with the others back to Terranovus. From there, I will coordinate a rendezvous to bring them to the Kentucky.”

“They’re all okay?” Jacob asked.

“MG was shot in the leg, but they’re good,” Reggie said. “Murph told me to let you know Agent Dubinski was also wounded in the operation, but she’ll make a full recovery.”

“Dubinski?” Webb asked.

“Homeworld Security agent,” Jacob said. “She was assigned to us to make the arrest of that Ark-Light employee after the Atlas recovery mission. After that, she was permanently assigned to the Ark.”

“You two on good terms?” Webb asked. Reggie just snorted.

“Reasonably so, sir,” Jacob said.

“Good. We may need real-time intel on the Ark before this is over and, clearly, official channels have been compromised,” Webb said. “Reg, you’ve got a briefing for me?”

“Shouldn’t you rest, sir?” Reggie asked.

“I am resting,” Webb said. “Go get your material and bring it back here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Over the next three hours, Reggie gave a marathon intel briefing while Webb asked questions between bites of the two club sandwiches he ordered along with a pile of tallow-fried potato chips that were making Jacob’s stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten in over a day, and the food from the Kentucky’s mess deck looked a damn sight better than the ship rations he had been eating.

“Has Loen Pyx completed the scanner?” Webb asked.

“Not yet,” Jacob said. “At least not that we’ve heard. I imagine we’ll simply get the engineering specs and then need to fabricate it ourselves.”

“This ship can handle that,” Webb said. “We’re fully provisioned?”

“The Kentucky is ready for sustained operations for the next three months,” Reggie said. “We’ve also been told that, if needed, there is safe harbor and resupplying available at an Eshquarian facility that isn’t widely known about.”

“Boneshaker?”

“Being fueled now,” Jacob confirmed.

“I need you to backtrack a bit,” Webb said, moving Reggie’s presentation back about thirty slides and pointing. “I want you to pay Saakin Pyx a visit. This time without his daughter in tow.”

“I’m confused,” Jacob said.

“Call it a hunch,” Webb said. “He’s come across my desk before but as Saakin Madicut. Madicut is a name adopted by Kheprian aristocracy who weren’t born into it. It’s a catch-all name for people like Saakin who are rewarded with station for their service to Khepri. I’m disappointed that our analysts didn’t cross-reference him already as we knew of him, just not where he was. The fact he was Loen’s father was information we already had.”

“He was high-level?”

“So high you wouldn’t believe. I think once he finds out who you are, assuming he didn’t already know, he’ll agree to some limited assistance.”

“What am I authorized to offer in return?” Jacob asked. “Assuming you’re not selling me.”

“If only,” Webb muttered. “Just…be smart. You’ll know when he’s asking for too much.”

“How soon you want me gone?” Jacob asked.

“Go get something to eat so you quit eyeing my food like a starving refugee, get your ship in order, and then take off. We’ll recover the rest of your people, and then probably steam for Eshquarian space to avoid any run-ins with our Navy.”

Jacob left the medical section and made a direct line for the officer’s mess. He also pulled out his com unit and requested that Flight Ops provisioned Boneshaker with what the Navy listed as “fresh food, frozen” as opposed to nothing but processor rations.

He wasn’t sure what the Admiral was thinking sending him back to confront Saakin Pyx. The old pru lived like a hermit and was unlikely to have anything worth trading if he even let them within a kilometer of his home without bolting or shooting at them. It all felt like a huge waste of time at a point they could hardly afford it.

“New orders?” Tin Man asked, falling in beside him. Jacob hadn’t even noticed his friend waiting for him.

“We’re heading back to talk to Loen’s old man.”

“I see.”

“But first, I was ordered to get a double BLT and chips.”

“Ordered?”

“It was implied, but a good operator knows how to read between the lines and give their commander exactly what they asked for.”

24

“I don’t know how this has happened. Our security was airtight.”

“It clearly was not.”

Michael Welford couldn’t understand how the Miressan, named Pitrico but previously known to him as the overseer, was so unbothered by the disaster that had befallen them.

“The only reason they would have been there was to rescue Webb, which means they know the one on Koliss-2 is a counterfeit,” Welford pressed.

“A reasonable assumption,” Pitrico said pleasantly.

“You don’t seem particularly bothered by this,” Welford said.

“I’m not,” Pitrico sighed, turning to look at the malformed human. “I never liked this operation from the beginning. It was pointlessly convoluted with little chance of success for something that we should have just taken by force to begin with. This bastardized AI your people are using might have been derived from Noxu technology, but the real prize is where it came from in the first place.”

“It came from⁠—”

“Yes, yes…I’m well aware of your lore, Michael, but it makes no sense. Somewhere, somehow, a human found a pure source of Noxu tech that was miraculously still functional. Whatever Earth got from that was soon polluted by your scientists’ attempts to coax it into something more.”

“The Ark works as intended,” Welford said defensively.

“You foolishly let the system evolve without control and achieve full sentience,” Pitrico said. “You allowed it to develop a personality and form loyalties. From what I understand, it even has preferences as to which specific human it deals with. For our purposes, it’s fairly useless. Eventually, it may become useless to you as well.”

“How so?”

“What happens when it decides it no longer wants to work with you?”

Welford fell silent. His mind didn’t work as it did before he was killed so it took him longer to work through the implications of what Pitrico had just said. It sounded like they were going to abandon subterfuge and come at Earth directly to gain access to the Ark. Or could it be diplomatically? His new benefactors were powerful, but if they still tread carefully around the Eshquarian Empire and Feuriso Dominion, they would probably not want to risk a confrontation with Earth.

When he’d awoken on an alloy slab, his body in pain from the wounds he’d sustained during his death, he had been told that he had been brough back for one purpose. He’d been shown how critical it was that his people’s technical prowess be integrated into their own.

Once he’d realized the enormity of the danger, he’d gladly signed on. What would happen to him if Pitrico reported back to his superiors that the program was a bust and there was no further use for the human avatars? Would he be turned loose? Killed…again?

“What’s to become of me?” he finally asked.

“This operation is still active, Michael,” Pitrico said.

“A compromised operation,” Welford said.

“You’ve seen the same reports I have,” Pitrico said. “No other team is reporting that their avatar has been compromised. Webb is the only one and, for whatever reason, Scout Fleet isn’t raising the alarm.”

“They aren’t sure who may have been replaced,” Welford said. “They’ll be afraid of tipping their own hand and they’ll try to handle it all in-house.”

“But since there’s no way to figure out who is real and who isn’t, time is on our side,” Pitrico said.

“We’re still going after the Ark?”

“It’s not ideal, but it’s better than walking away empty-handed. Even if we got our hands on the original program, we simply don’t have the time to try and properly grow a functional AI from it.” Pitrico leaned back, looking thoughtful.

“Our team will need to split into two taskforces. One will continue trying to seize the Ark, the other will be tasked with finding the source of Noxu technology it was based on. Logic dictates that it must still exist given how recently the Ark came into existence.”

Welford again remained silent. He’d been the one that had actually taken possession of the Ark’s original form. Jason Burke had stood on the tarmac of Area 51 of all places while his gunship was loaded with coffee plants and a classic Camaro and handed over the laptop with what he thought was an interactive, searchable database.

The problem was that, even during that time of newfound cooperation with his homeworld, Jason had never divulged the source of the program he’d given them. They hadn’t even realized it had come from tech left by an ancient, hyper-advanced race called the Noxu until well after the Ark had gone through several expansions. He knew that he was expected to be knowledgeable about these things given his former position as head of Earth’s intelligence apparatus, but he had never been able to figure out where Jason had come across his source for working Noxu relics.

At first, Welford’s people thought the secret might lie in the wreckage that Jason had left dumped in the Potomac river some years back. An alien race calling themselves the Travelers had attacked Earth at the behest of a psychotic synth named Deetz.

Their ships had been old and in dangerously poor repair, and Jason had shot one down over the river. The ship was rather unremarkable save for one unique feature. Its FTL propulsion method was something called the jump drive and worked much different than the ubiquitous slip-drive. It allowed the instantaneous jump from one point in space to another, the only theoretical limitation being the amount of available power you could pump into it.

The wreckage had been a closely guarded secret. It had been moved around, hidden, had wars started over it…in the end, Welford had been part of a group that had hidden the wreckage one more time after he’d been ordered to delete it by Earth’s newly minted Unified Council. He’d stashed it in a deep space vault in the middle of an abandoned mining operation, turning it over to his new benefactors when they’d resurrected him.

They confirmed that the jump drive bore the signature of the Noxu. It made them excited that there might be more secrets hiding in the mangled wreckage, but after an exhaustive search, they’d uncovered nothing. After learning about the drive, Welford had been convinced that Jason’s source for the Ark had to have been the Traveler ships despite many groups finding nothing.

“You’re safe…for now,” Pitrico said. “But time is running short, and the Synod grows impatient. The key to our success is gathering the bits of Noxu knowledge left in this quadrant and unifying it under our control. The loss of the Goliath battlestation and Starfall has brought you to the Synod’s attention in a way you do not want. A working version of the Ark that could quicky recreate these lost pieces would go a long way in redeeming you in their eyes.”

“I…understand,” Welford said.

“When—and only when—the Ark is safely in our control will you be given what you were promised. You want a new body? An undamaged body free of pain? The price is success in your mission.”

“I will not fail.”

“It’s growing on me.”

“What is growing on you?” Tin Man asked.

“This planet,” Jacob said. Boneshaker had touched down on Or’dan at the same airfield they’d used the last time.

“Still looking for retirement spots?”

“Could do worse than this place. Maybe I can find a cave like Saakin has.”

Jacob still wasn’t thrilled about how far they’d had to backtrack to talk to some hermit. He wasn’t convinced that Webb was firing on all cylinders yet, but orders were orders. In the meantime, he’d read up on Saakin from any source he could pull from and had to acknowledge that the old pru had led a pretty amazing life even if he did raise a batshit crazy daughter.

The ride out to Saakin’s hideout was as peaceful as it had been the first time, the luxury vehicle gliding through the countryside with barely any other traffic to contend with. He knew Saakin would have certainly watched them land, and if he’d let them come this far without being intercepted, it was reasonable to assume he had no intention of killing them.

At least that’s what he hoped.

They stopped the vehicle a few klicks from their destination and walked the rest of the way in. The reasoning was that they wanted to give Saakin plenty of time to decide if he wanted to talk to them and hopefully give them a warning rather than just shoot up their rented vehicle when they pulled up.

“I would have been easier to just land the ship back in that field,” Tin Man said as they walked up the lane.

“I have a feeling that would have really pissed Saakin off,” Jacob said. “Too memorable, and it would be tracked down from orbit right to his doorstep.”

They walked up the overgrown gravel lane for another few minutes before a voice boomed out from hidden speakers.

“That’s about far enough, Captain Brown. State your business.”

“Just here to talk, Saakin,” Jacob said. “I’m here at the request of Admiral Marcus Webb.”

“Tell your boss I’m not getting involved,” Saakin said. “Greetings, 707. Or should I say Tin Man?”

“Saakin,” Tin Man said politely. “Have we ever met?”

“Not exactly,” Saakin said. “I knew Krunt Teludal. You might even say we were friends.”

“He is dead,” Tin Man said. Jacob just looked confused having no idea who they were talking about.

“I’m well aware,” Saakin said. “He died during the re-emergence of Lot 700.”

“Yes,” Tin Man confirmed. There was a long pause that made Jacob uncomfortable before Saakin spoke again.

“I guess we have something to discuss at that,” he said, sounding reluctant. “Just be aware that whatever Loen has gotten herself, or you, into is not something I can help you with.”

“We appreciate it,” Jacob said. “And, oddly enough, this has nothing to do with Loen.”

“In that case, come ahead.”

Jacob turned to Tin Man and shrugged. They walked the rest of the way up the lane and into the small clearing where the older pru was already standing outside the entrance to his hidden lair. He was calm and not visibly armed, but when Jacob switched his ocular implants to long-wave IR, he could detect the faint heat signatures from hidden guns placed up the hill in the scrub.

“Greetings,” Jacob called out. “We’re unarmed. Well, I’m unarmed, he’s just well-mannered. I apologize for the intrusion, but I’m here on orders.”

“I’ve already allowed you to approach, Captain,” Saakin said. “No need to keep trying to sell me on it.”

He waved them toward the door and led them into a home that was not at all what Jacob was imagining when he saw the pru lived in a cave. High-resolution panels and randomized flows of wind, along with a few strategically placed holographic projectors made it seem like they had stepped into a bright, open outdoor space.

“An affectation,” Saakin said when he noticed Jacob looking around. “While this stone provides concealment and security, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m somewhat claustrophobic and do not enjoy being underground. Now, tell me, Captain…what brings you to see me.”

Jacob quickly gave a version of events that had led not only to their association with his daughter but Admiral Webb’s hope that the former intelligence officer might have sources of information still that they could use. Through it all, Saakin sat impassively and drank his tea, giving no indication he either believed or was interested in what Jacob told him.

“Fascinating,” he finally said once Jacob stopped talking. “A quick sidebar, if I may?”

“Of course.”

“I had long suspected that my daughter had something to do with the Viper. It shames me to have it confirmed as I am aware of her history and know that she wasn’t a willing participant…at least at first.”

“Do you have a question about Whitney?” Jacob frowned.

“What happened to her? Did Loen kill her when she outlived her usefulness?” Saakin asked. “I know she’s disappeared completely, and that’s no mean feat.”

“The Viper is dead,” Jacob said carefully. “But Carolyn Whitney is alive. In the end, Loen did the right thing and removed the behavior controls that had created the assassin persona. I really can’t say anything else without breaking a trust.”

“I understand,” Saakin said. “And thank you for that much. I’m relieved that Loen at least made some attempt to right a wrong regardless of her motivation. Now, for your Synod problem.”

“Our what problem?”

“Ah…you are even less knowledgeable than I feared. The Synod is the group that controls the loose confederation that now opposes you. They are trying to forge it into a nation but have preferred to remain fractured so as not to attract too much attention before they’re ready.” Saakin leaned back. He steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes.

“While they are impressive, they still are at risk from powers like the Eshquarian Empire or the Feuriso Dominion. They have pursued technologies from the Ancients they believe will give them the edge needed to quickly and decisively dominate the quadrant.”

“So, who are they?” Jacob asked. “We saw a Miressan with the people who abducted Webb. Is this a splinter group from the Pillar Worlds?”

“If only it were that easy,” Saakin said. “To be honest, I’m not sure who they really are. Nobody is. They seemed to appear out of nowhere and had access to resources and personnel they shouldn’t have. Some of us even floated the idea that it was an ex-gangster named Saditava Mok who was reported dead some years back, but that’s been largely dismissed.”

“You speak as if you are still an active member of the intelligence community,” Tin Man said.

“I…hear things,” Saakin said. “People come to me as you have and ask for my opinion on events or trends. But no, I no longer work for any government or have access to their current intel. What is the problem, Captain?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re being so forthcoming,” Jacob said. “In my experience, that’s unusual and means we’re either being misled intentionally or you want something from us.”

“I’m not misleading you,” Saakin said. “Everything I’ve told you are things you can verify for yourself.”

“So, you want something.”

“Don’t we all?” The pru smiled humorlessly. “I have critical information to share with the caveat that it is unverified. It’s from a good source, but I only have their word for it. In return, I want asylum for Loen with your people.”

“That’s no small ask,” Jacob said, keeping his action restrained. “Loen has made quite a name for herself in certain circles, and none of what’s said about her is good. She’s responsible for a lot of⁠—”

“Captain, I’m painfully aware of what my daughter is and what she’s done in her lifetime,” Saakin said. “I used to try and protect her the best I could while letting her suffer some of the consequences for her actions, but that only seemed to make things worse. She is…not a good person. Not a moral person. But she is still my daughter, and I love her. I wouldn’t wish to see her run down by any of her enemies, tortured or worse. You of all people should understand this request.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What would you do if the bill for your father’s misdeeds came due, young captain,” Saakin said. “Jason Burke has left a trail of death and destruction in his wake for years. You can be assured there are those who would want their revenge on him. Would you leave him to his fate, or do what you could to protect him?”

“My father is usually the one people need protection from not the other way around,” Jacob said.

“Yet, my point remains,” Saakin said.

“There’s no way I could talk Earth into taking Loen,” Jacob said. “Maybe a place on Terranovus, but do you actually think she’d come willingly? My people aren’t going to let her set up another shop of horrors like she had on Diwa.”

“Leave that to me,” Saakin said. “Do we have a deal?”

“I’ll do what I can. You have my word.”

“That will have to do. Let me divulge what I know, and we can see what that gets us.”

25

“How do you feel, sir?”

Marcus Webb looked around the bridge of the Kentucky before answering.

“Like a new man, Captain,” he said. “Status?”

“Steaming into the buffer zone between Eshquarian and Cridal space,” Captain Duncan said. “We’ll get well out of the lanes and put her in a long, slow, slip-space loop.”

“Excellent. Carry on.”

“Aye, sir.”

Webb walked toward the rear of the bridge and opened the hatch to his personal office. Inside were four miserable-looking individuals who had been through the wringer to get themselves to the Kentucky.

“Gentlemen,” he said, walking behind his desk. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you, sir,” MG said crisply.

“How you feeling, Murph?”

“Good, sir,” Murph said. “Engineering section got my legs all charged back up and working after the gunfight in Belize.”

“And?” Webb asked. Murph nodded to Mettler.

“One Ark seed, as promised, Admiral,” Mettler said. “It’s good to see you, well, yourself again, sir.”

Webb turned the drive over in his hand and shook his head.

“All this trouble for one obsolete little laptop hard drive,” he said.

“Admiral, my daughter…”

“Is safe, Mr. Mitchell,” Webb said. “She and the rest of your house have been collected and are on their way to Eshquaria where they will be the guests of the Ministry of Imperial Intelligence until this is all sorted out. It’s the safest I can make them under the circumstances.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mitchell said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Let me be as clear as I can, gentlemen,” Webb said as he sat in his chair. “We’re alone on an island here. We can’t even risk returning to Mosler Station despite my confidence in Scout Fleet and its people. We have no idea how many fakes there are and how high up they’ve been placed. I do know Fleet Admiral Grant is one of them.”

“Which means the entire damn Navy has been compromised,” Murph said. “Shit.”

“Indeed,” Webb said. “We can’t count on anybody. While we have some allies in the region, we first need to know what it is we’re up against. I suspect that this is all connected to the megastructure in the Hyellti System that Buzzkill observed. You can read the details later down in Intel but, suffice to say, it was a shit show that raised more questions than it answered.”

“What do you need from us right now?” Murph asked.

“The four of you will be traveling to a neutral location to accept the engineering specs and prototype scanner that Loen Pyx has made for us,” Webb said. “She’s been in contact, but she’s paranoid as ever so we’re having to jump through some hoops.”

“Shouldn’t we wait on Jake and Tin Man?” MG asked.

“They won’t be coming back to the Kentucky,” Webb said. “I need them in the wind as a wildcard. There’s still every possibility that they will find this ship, and I’d rather they not be aboard it if they do.”

“Understood, sir,” Murph said. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as she gives us the final location and time,” Webb said. “Until then, stay ready. Dismissed.”

Once they’d filed out of his office, he brought up one of the monitors and selected the feed from the secure med bay where they were keeping the copy of him. It had been badly malfunctioning, and there had been no way to question it, not that he expected it to know much. Anybody smart enough to build and deploy such a thing would not be foolish enough to entrust it with enough information to make it a security risk.

The medical team was doing all the non-invasive scans they could, but Webb didn’t hold out much hope they would find anything useful. Whoever made the avatar had access to technology well and above your average cloner. At first, he wasn’t sure why he was picked to be replaced, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense they would want to take control of a well-funded covert force like Scout Fleet.

That meant that they intended to stay low-profile on a long-term basis. So, they wanted to usurp Earth’s resources and capabilities, but they didn’t want to deal with trying to keep humans subjugated.

Michael Welford was clearly their insider, reporting to whoever that Miressan was, but that wasn’t the big boss. Probably middle-management at best. That suggested that the avatar program wasn’t a top priority for this group. It was brilliantly executed but was small scale. This also meant they had another method in mind to get their hands on the Ark that didn’t include subterfuge. He slid the Ark seed back and forth on his desk in its protective case.

“More than one backup plan, I guess,” he said aloud as he stared at the drive. Growing their own Ark from the original programming was about as inefficient a way they could do it with no guarantee of success, but it looked like these people were hedging their bets. So far, his people had thwarted two methods. Would they see the third coming?

“Who is Krunt Teludal?”

“Is this really what you want to talk about?” Tin Man asked.

“Sure,” Jacob said. “I’ve actually heard the name before, but not the story behind it.

They were riding in the vehicle back to the ship. Jacob was still a little shellshocked after what Saakin had told them so he was looking for something to distract him.

“Where?” Tin Man demanded in a tone harsh enough to startle Jacob.

“What the hell? Touchy subject?” Jacob asked. “I heard it from your brother. I was having a tough time once on my mother’s birthday, thinking about her passing and feeling sorry for myself. Lucky told me that he’d lost someone once that he considered family.”

“He said that?” Tin Man sounded surprised. “I always thought him uncaring since he left Khepri, turning his back on all of us.”

They fell silent, and Jacob assumed that was the end of the conversation. It was many kilometers later before Tin Man started talking again.

“Krunt Teludal was there when we were born,” he said. “When Lot 700 came fully online, he was the master who guided us from being processing matrixes on a rack to full integration. We were not meant to be battlesynths, and Teludal felt great guilt about that, so he made us different. He gave us the ability to ignore the override signal that would compel obedience to the Ministry of Martial Affairs.”

“What were you meant to be?” Jacob asked.

“The matrixes of Lot 700 were Type 4s,” Tin Man explained. “Normally, we would have been deemed unfit for battlesynth integration. Too free thinking, too independent. But this came at a time when Khepri had bowed to political pressure and agreed to shut down the battlesynth program completely. They were allowed to integrate the remaining bodies, but it had to be done quickly.”

“And Lot 700 were the only matrixes available,” Jacob surmised. “So, what sort of jobs would a Type 4 normally get?”

“Research, philosophy, art,” Tin Man said sadly. “Integrated into a light, nimble body and not into a clumsy, armored husk as you see now.”

“I had no idea,” Jacob said.

“It is not something we speak of often. For some, the lingering bitterness is still quite intense.”

Jacob wouldn’t insult his friend by offering sympathy for something he couldn’t possibly understand. He thought about how difficult it must be when just the act of existing caused you some level of pain and there was nothing you could do about it. There was also a renewed sense of kinship with his partner.

When Tin Man first joined Scout Fleet, it had been partially due to Lot 700’s life debt to Jacob’s family, but mostly due to his friendship with Murph. He and Jacob hadn’t become close until they’d been forced to work together as a tandem. He was honored that the battlesynth held him in such esteem to share with him something so personal.

“Looks like we have some company,” he said, pointing to Boneshaker as the vehicle glided past on its way back to the depot yard. “Locals?”

“Perhaps,” Tin Man said. “They did not appear to be trying to damage the ship.”

“Not visibly armed. Want me to tell the ship to zap them?” Jacob asked.

“I think we should talk to them first, then zap them.”

The vehicle turn-in was automated and fast. In only a few minutes, they were clearing back through the terminal and walking across the grassy field toward Boneshaker. They were nearly upon them before one of the four looked up and saw them.

“This your ship?” he asked.

“I’m in a hurry and not in a great mood,” Jacob said. “What do you want?”

“I’m asking the questions.”

“Do we really have time for this?” Jacob asked Tin Man.

“State your purpose here or get clear,” Tin Man said in a loud voice. Now, the fear settled in. The sort of fear from someone who just realized they might have taken on more than they could handle.

“We are bounty hunters executing a legal contract,” one of them stammered.

“For us or the ship?” Jacob asked.

“The ship.”

“Give me that.” He snatched the piece of film out of the idiot’s hand and read through it. “I’ll be damned. It’s current and registered with the guild. Seems legit. Who the hell would take a contract out on us?” Jacob handed the film to Tin Man.

“Everything appears to be in order,” the battlesynth said. He switched to full combat mode. “Shall we do this?”

“Can I go in and get a gun?” Jacob asked. “It seems only fair since there’s four of you and two of us.”

“Is…is that a real battlesynth?” one asked.

“He claims to be, but I’ve had my doubts lately,” Jacob said. “I think you’ll be able to take him. Where the hell are your weapons, by the way?”

“We’re armed,” another blustered, but nobody made any move to pull a weapon.

“I think I see what’s happening,” Jacob said. “Look, guys…bounty hunting might seem like an exciting lark for a bunch of bored rich kids stuck with their families out in the sticks, but you can see how quickly it goes sideways. Yes, that is a real battlesynth, and yes, he will kill you if you try to detain us or keep us from our ship.

“I’ve got no idea how you got your hands on a legit guild contract. I’m guessing a private security contractor was careless and left it lying about. Either way, this isn’t for you. The people they put contracts on are dangerous and running for their lives. You get what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Can I have the contract back?”

“No, I’m keeping it,” Jacob said. “Now, get lost.”

The group wandered off, and Tin Man stood down from combat mode.

“I must say…I am proud of you.”

“You are?” Jacob asked, confused. “For what?”

“A lesser man would have at least beaten them just for inconveniencing him,” Tin Man said. “There was a time not too long ago that you might have been that man. It is gratifying to see you are learning temperance at such a young age.”

“Since I can never tell when you’re making fun of me, I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment,” Jacob said. “You think they did anything to the ship while they were here?”

“I will do a full pre-flight,” Tin Man said.

“I’ll run a security scan.”

The ship had been set to a low security posture while sitting in a civil airfield where anybody could be walking through. That meant that even touching it wouldn’t elicit a response. Boneshaker would have only defended herself if they tried to forcibly enter. He went up to the flightdeck and initiated a full sweep before checking what the external cameras recorded.

From the timestamps, the group arrived about an hour before they did, walking around the ship and making rude comments about her appearance. The one who was apparently the leader was bragging that they’d be able to jump the crew for the bounty without any trouble. That had apparently been the extent of their planning. Jacob watched the footage at an accelerated speed, and it didn’t look like anybody had put anything on the ship’s hull.

“Nothing was amiss,” Tin Man announced as he walked up to the flightdeck hatchway.

“I didn’t see anything up here, either,” Jacob said. “They milled about for a while, and then we showed up.”

“Just dumb children.”

“Okay. Close her up, and we’ll get out of here. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.”

Once all of his lights were greened up, he quickly lifted off and climbed for orbit at a speed well above what was legal for that area. The contract out on them was a concern. The last thing he needed was to be looking over his shoulder constantly for bounty hunters while he tried to get a handle on everything Saakin has just told them.

“I think we’re going to need to call in some extra help on this bounty thing,” he said.

“Oh?” Tin Man asked.

“Yeah,” Jacob said in a pained voice. “I fucking hate that I have to ask for a favor…but please send a message to the Phoenix and tell them we need a bit of assistance.”

Tin Man said nothing, but Jacob knew him well enough now to sense his amusement through his body language. He knew his father could probably either get the contract canceled or make it so nobody would dare try to fill it, but he’d rather have the name of whoever took it out.

Before he could worry about any of that, however, he needed to handle more pressing business. Once Boneshaker was locked onto course and they detected no signs of pursuit, he punched in the hyperlink code for the Kentucky and braced himself for an unpleasant conversation.

26

“Admiral. You’re fully back on duty?”

“I’m not an invalid, Captain,” Webb said. “What have you got?”

“It’s not great,” Jacob said. “We went to see Saakin Pyx as ordered and, as you can see, he didn’t try to kill us.”

“He have anything interesting to say? Who are these people?”

“He doesn’t know what this group calls itself because they have no name. They’re led by a group called the Synod. This governing body has been the one pulling all the strings. They’re hellbent on getting as much Noxu technology to prepare for what they think is coming.”

“Which is?” Webb prompted.

“War,” Jacob said. “They are convinced that there is a group beyond the quadrant borders that is mobilizing for conquest. The ConFed’s power was the only thing keeping them at bay. For all its flaws, the ConFed’s war fleet was so big and so widespread that the math didn’t work in their favor.”

“The enemy?” Webb whispered.

“Don’t know,” Jacob said. “Saakin claims that leaks from within the Synod indicate that, whoever they are, they are savage and without mercy. There is some hope they might take the Avarian Empire before entering our space, so that’s some good news…unless you’re an Avarian. We have any ability to warn them, by the way?”

“There are no lines of communication between us and them, back-channel or otherwise,” Webb said. “So, the goal of this Synod isn’t the usual conquest for fun and profit?”

“No. At least that’s not how they see themselves,” Jacob said. “They’re trying to amass power to make a stand against the pending invasion. They’ve decided that Noxu tech is the way to overcome the numerical disadvantage, and Earth is holding onto a big piece even if most people don’t realize it.”

“The Ark,” Webb nodded. “Everything comes back to that.”

“The good news, if there is any, is that they don’t seem to be willing to try and take it by force.”

“They couldn’t. The way the Ark works, if it thought it might be used against humanity, it would fight back or destroy itself. Plus, if what you’re saying is true—and I’m not quite ready to believe that yet—they would want to keep a functional Earth to build ships and guns.”

“The fact they didn’t approach diplomatically still raises some red flags,” Jacob said. “Keep in mind all of this is from a retired hermit living in a cave.”

“Maybe,” Webb said. “What did he want in return?”

“Asylum for his daughter,” Jacob said.

“That’s going to be a hard sell,” Webb winced. “Lots of people want her dead, and I don’t blame them. I regret that you’ve become so entangled with her. She’s dangerous, and no amount of distance will protect you from her if she decides you’ve annoyed her somehow.”

“Yeah, I’m not real thrilled about it, either,” Jacob said. “Didn’t see any other options at the time, though.”

“While all of this sounds…terrible, what are you holding back with?” Webb asked. “Don’t bother lying, I know you too well. You found out something you don’t want me knowing about. Not only that but that bit of info isn’t enough for us to go through the pain in the ass of sheltering Loen. Not by half. Come on…spill it.”

“He was able to use his connections and find out where they’re keeping Welford,” Jacob admitted. “Tin Man and I are going after him.”

“How did he come by that?” Webb asked, clearly skeptical.

“He was able to find out where the avatar group is operating out of,” Jacob said. “There were reports of a badly injured human with them that matches Welford’s description. It turns out they’ve been putting fakes in high levels of government all over the quadrant not just the Orion Sector.”

“And you think the pair of you is the best chance of success?”

“I think it’s the best was for you to retain plausible deniability.”

“You don’t think we’re well beyond that?” Webb asked. “The Kentucky is basically a rogue vessel, and I have no idea what the fallout from that is going to be.”

“The planet they’re on is N’asi Ux,” Jacob said. “It’s a Cridal world.”

“Never heard of it, but if it’s Cridal, then UAES personnel are strictly forbidden, even special operations or intelligence services,” Webb said. “Makes sense why they would pick it.”

“It’s considered a vassal world,” Jacob said. “Although it’s beholden to the Cooperative, such as it is these days, it has its own independent government.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to authorize this,” Webb said. “I don’t like it.”

Jacob just shrugged and smiled. Webb’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and his nostrils flared. The two stared at each other a long moment before Webb snorted, then chuckled. That turned into a long, genuine laugh.

“But I already instructed you to ignore orders from your own chain of command and stay out, didn’t I?” he asked rhetorically. “You’re going to do whatever the hell you want and do it on a technicality, holding my own words against me.”

“We can do this, sir,” Jacob said seriously. “If I can’t grab Welford, I’ll just kill him. He’s been the key to their entire Terran operation. We get him, get the scanner from Loen to dig out the rest of the fakes, and we’ll throw up a hell of a roadblock.”

“Still…” Webb rubbed his chin.

“Just us, sir,” Jacob said, already seeing what his boss was thinking. “If UE Marines are spotted stomping around, it’s going to kick off a crazy shit storm.”

“That’s a big task for two people. Even two like you guys.”

“Oh, there are a few favors I can call in.”

“They’re really making you walk around in that?”

“It’s what we have,” Murph said. “It’s not too bad.”

“Not too bad?” Loen snorted. “I’d rather be dead.”

“Can we just do this?” Mettler asked.

They’d flown out to a planet called Nabia-2, a planet founded by an Aracorian company during the Second Wave Colonization. It was now independent and favored by people who wanted to be left alone and had a little money to spend. It also had strict laws about personal armament so, if you were someone like Loen Pyx, it was a nice added layer of security that anybody coming through customs was scanned.

Murph had been suspicious when Loen agreed to meet them in person. She usually liked to handle everything through intermediaries so it was some surprise when she arrived in person with a case containing what she claimed was the scanner they’d been promised. When Murph tried to pin her down as to why she showed up instead of making them fly to three different planets for a dead drop, she’d been cagey, shrugging and waving him off.

“There are five scanners in the case, as well as a complete technical package so you can build your own,” Loen said. “It was surprisingly easy once I knew what to look for. There is the information you’ll need to modify the scan parameters if needed.”

“And what are you getting out of this?” MG asked.

“Your captain knows,” Loen said distractedly. “You’re certain you weren’t followed?”

“Not that I could⁠—”

Weapons fire shrieked through the afternoon air. Shots impacted the wall they were near. They were partially covered by a waist-high structure that ran the length of the street, but there wasn’t much else. Murph zeroed in on their attackers and saw four beings in full tactical gear coming toward them.

“Get the case and go!” he shouted at Mettler.

“But—”

“I can’t keep up with you,” Murph said. “Go! Now!”

Mettler and MG were both Marines, and the code that came with that was something they both held dear. They were loyal and courageous and the idea of leaving Murph behind was counter to everything they believed in. They’d rather stand and fight with their friend even if it was to the death.

But the stakes were bigger than that.

They’d been picked for Scout Fleet because they were everything a Marine was supposed to be…and more. The scanner technology was critical to Earth in a way that was more important than any one man, even if that one man was their brother in arms and friend. MG grabbed the case and took off with Mettler close behind.

“They’re here for me,” Loen said quietly as the tac team advanced, firing warning shots to keep them pinned down. “You should run.”

“Try not to read too much into this, but I don’t like the idea of running away and leaving you to these assholes,” Murph said. “Just move behind me a bit.”

He reached both hands back behind him and pulled two cylinders out from where they’d been nestled in his mobility harness. After threading them together, he energized the device and waited. Two of the attackers held back as the other two moved through the gap in the wall. They glanced at Murph, saw the rod, but didn’t seem to connect it as being a threat, so they focused on Loen.

“Come with us and you won’t be harmed,” one of them said.

“You expect me to believe that?” Loen asked.

“You won’t be harmed by us. Once our employer gets a hold of you? I think you’re smart enough to—” He didn’t react in time as Murph raised the rod and pressed a red spot. The uniquely designed holdout blaster fired, the plasma bolt taking the attacker right in the face.

Turning away from the grisly sight, Murph aimed at the partner, firing three more times, dropping them and depleting the now smoking rod. He tossed it aside just in time to get hit in the shoulder by a glancing shot fired by one of the two attackers that held back.

Murph was spun about, his concentration slipping, as did his control over the mobility harness. He hit the pavement, his head bouncing hard enough to scramble his senses. The last thing he saw before blacking out was Loen diving for the weapon of the first attacker.

“At least…I went down swinging,” he slurred before everything went black.

“Please, remain still, Agent Murphy.”

Murph struggled to regain consciousness. When his vision cleared, he could see he wasn’t lying in the gutter, nor was he dead, either of the outcomes he expected when he’d gone down.

“You fought the last two off?” he asked.

“Obviously,” Loen said pleasantly.

“Nice. Where are we?”

“Back at my secret lair. I’ve treated your immediate injuries from the impact to your cranium and the blaster shot to the shoulder. Right now, I’m running high-resolution scans and looking at the absolute mangled mess your people did on this spinal injury.”

“It was the best they could do,” Murph said. “Our med tech hasn’t quite caught up with our weapons, I guess. They said I wasn’t a candidate for a cloned replacement column.”

“I concur,” Loen said. “The damage to the associated nerve bundles is too extreme. Cloning is a great solution for something like a lost limb or crushed organ, but it doesn’t do great with a centralized nervous system. To be fair to your people, they did as good a job as I’d expect to see on most Tier 1 or 2 worlds give or take a few. Are you in much pain?”

“They shut all that off,” Murph said. “Which led to the other…indignities.”

“Not to worry, the bed you’re on can handle waste management much better than that contraption you were riding can,” she said.

He stared at the ceiling until she moved into his field of view, looking down at him.

“Probably too late to put me in a box and ship me back to the starport where I can catch my friends?” he asked.

“If they’re as good as you hope, they’re long gone with the scanners,” Loen said. “It’s just you and me…and nobody knows where you are or how to find you.”

A dozen sarcastic comments came to mind, but they all died on his tongue. He’d heard the stories about what Loen Pyx did to live specimens, and now he was on her table, helpless. When he looked up at her, she just smiled and ran a hand down his chest in a way that reminded Murph of a cat playing with a mouse it was about to kill.

“So…just you and me, huh?”

“Just us.”

27

“I can’t fucking believe we left him!”

“You did what was required, Sergeant,” Admiral Webb said sternly. “You did what he asked you to do.”

“But, sir⁠—”

“We will mount a mission for Agent Murphy. In fact, that is happening right now, but that’s not your fight.”

MG and Mettler were in the Admiral’s Launch heading back toward the Kentucky. They were currently sitting in a well-appointed lounge and the hologram of Admiral Webb lectured them via hyperlink. The crew of the vessel had the good manners to pretend not to notice.

“Who is going?” Mettler asked.

“I’m sending Buzzkill back to Nabia-2,” Webb said. “Captain May is mounting up as we speak. Good enough?”

“Yeah,” MG mumbled. “Yeah…Buzzkill boys are solid. Sorry, sir.”

“It’s understandable, but don’t make a habit of it,” Webb said.

“What’s next for us, sir?” Mettler asked.

“You’re heading back to Mosler Station, and the Kentucky is meeting you there,” Webb said. “Even with the scanners you’re carrying, we’ll need more resources than this ship has available to implement them. We’ll need all of Scout Fleet, and then some.”

“One more thing, Admiral,” MG asked.

“Yes?”

“Can we keep this ship? It’s much nicer than ours, and you barely use it.”

Webb just rolled his eyes and killed the channel, the hologram freezing and slowly fading out.

“Raises an interesting point,” Mettler said.

“I wasn’t serious about keeping the ship,” MG said.

“Not that, you idiot,” Mettler said. “I mean about these scanners. What if we find out almost everybody is a fake and it doesn’t matter if we know or not?”

“Above my pay grade,” MG said. “Now…let’s clean out the Admiral’s bar.”

“The fidelity of the holo-fields is impressive. Why do you not use that more?”

“You think disguises are that effective?” Jacob asked.

“No. I simply tire of looking at your face,” Tin Man said.

“Damn,” Jacob said, not able to think of a good comeback.

The system he was using was housed in a collar around his neck that projected a holographic field to change his face. Right now, he looked like an Eshquarian. Being human fit in fine on most worlds. Usually, he was mistaken for any of a dozen other species that had similar features, or at least close enough that they could be mistaken for one another.

But N’asi Ux was a Cridal world. Humans would be more readily recognized and most assuredly unwelcome. The details of Seeladas Dalton’s death had been necessarily suppressed so, in the absence of accurate information, rumor had taken hold. The most common belief was that the humans had killed their beloved premier to back out of their protection treaties.

The solution had been adapted by the Magic Shop on Mosler Station. They had successfully miniaturized the holo-emitters used with hyperlink, and then wrote the adaptive program needed to superimpose the holo-mask. The only way to tell it was fake was to hit it with a direct light source of over two-thousand lumens or to try and touch it and have your hand pass through.

“They are late. Trap?” Tin Man asked.

“I don’t think so. Just cautious,” Jacob said. “You know how these intel types are.”

It was another thirty minutes or so before he noticed the same person walking by them for the third time, each time from a different angle. He nodded to the person on the third pass but made no attempt to get up and make contact. They didn’t have to wait long after that before an elderly Eshquarian came and sat near them.

“I was expecting a human,” she said.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Jacob said.

“I suppose. How is the weather where you are from?”

“I’ve not been there for twenty-six years so I don’t remember.”

The woman just grunted, stood, and walked off. Jacob carefully palmed the miniature datacard she’d left behind tucked into the wrapper of something she’d been eating. He made some show of throwing the wrapper away and then walked to sit back with Tin Man. They waited another twenty minutes before getting up and leaving themselves.

It wasn’t the most sophisticated drop he’d been a part of, but it was the best that could be arranged by an old, retired pru to get information between two parties that had zero trust for each other. They used public transport to head back to the starport where Boneshaker sat on a landing pad near a few other corporate transports.

“I will begin analysis,” Tin Man said.

The datacard was encrypted, but the decryption routines had been given to them already from Saakin. The isolated terminal they used to for datacards that came from unverified sources began chewing through the contents and providing a real-time report on what was in it.

True to his word, Saakin had been able to find out much about Welford’s operation on N’asi Ux. The group he was working with was part of a loose network of intelligence officers, both retired and active, that had been keeping eyes on the newcomers since they arrived and began making trouble. They’d assumed the group would be a new threat looking to rise to power in the vacuum of ConFed’s withdrawal, but what they ended up finding was much worse. And stranger.

The more they dug, the more they became convinced that it wasn’t just some ploy, this group calling themselves the Synod really believed they were a bulwark standing against a looming threat.

“Their installation is fortified,” Tin Man said. “Looks to be retired military.”

“Armament?” Jacob asked.

“Either hidden or non-existent.”

“They’ve got to have something.”

“Most likely a few hidden emplacements,” Tin Man said. “But, most importantly, we have the full architectural schematics for the main building and satellite installations in the area. We also have public power data that will tell us what each is drawing to help plan out the attack.”

“Big guns are standing by,” Jacob said. “We’ll need to figure out how we’re getting ourselves in and out. I imagine it’s going to take quite a bit of money from one of my slush accounts to make this happen.”

“That is what they are for,” Tin Man pointed out.

“Eh…I’d sort of begun looking at them as my pension,” Jacob said. “A few operations like this and I’ll go from filthy stinking rich to just filthy rich.”

“You are also heir to a large agricultural operation on S’Tora.”

“Yeah but the guy who has to die for me to get it has proven to be damn near immortal,” Jacob snorted.

They spent the next eight hours digging down into the details. Planning the operation seemed fairly straightforward since they didn’t much care if Welford survived or not. Jacob just wanted him out of the equation. With their insider gone, the Synod would have a more difficult time manipulating Earth for its own purposes.

“This Miressan is also someone I’d like to take a run at,” Jacob said, pointing to an image of the one they had seen during Webb’s rescue. “See what he knows.”

“Likely less than you think,” Tin Man said. “This group is compartmentalized to a level I have never seen before. They are careful to ensure each cell of their operation is expendable, able to be sacrificed without risking the whole.”

“No chance he leads us to the Synod?”

“Slim.”

Jacob grumbled but let it go. Putting an end to their goal of seizing the Ark was a necessity. What was bothering him was that if the threat they feared was real, then Earth was still just at risk.

“I have compiled a preliminary list of the supplies we will need,” Tin Man said. “Some might be difficult.”

“I’ve already got contacts that can get us most anything.” Jacob waved him off. “It’ll cost us an arm and leg, but we’ll make it happen.”

“You should eat and rest,” Tin Man said. “I will continue working.”

“I’m good.”

“I think one of the steaks from the Kentucky is still left.”

“On second thought, I’m no good to anyone being famished and tired,” Jacob said.

“You ever used one of these?”

“Of course,” Jacob said, taking the device and putting it back in the crate.

The arms dealers of N’asi Ux were the same type of scum that they were everywhere else in the quadrant. It was genuinely insane the things he was able to buy on the black market with the right connections and a pile of money. Sometimes, he was surprised there weren’t far more pop-up wars.

Most of the equipment and arms had been skimmed off from Cridal depots, taken by enterprising soldiers who had the ability to fudge the numbers. From there, it had made its way into various caches around Cridal space before being smuggled out to parts of the quadrant where there was a thriving market for such things.

Since Jacob was buying from about the mid-point in the smuggling train, he was able to take his pick from the better merchandise. A bonus was that since this was Cridal equipment, most of it was designed by humans and built on Terranovus. He had been trained on everything the broker had brought him.

“You sure? This is some weird shit. You’re not going to pull a job here in Ecl, are you?” the broker asked, referring to the coastal city they were in.

“Nope,” Jacob lied. “We’ll load up, and you’ll never see us again.”

“Any chance you want to make a deal on the battlesynth?”

“No chance, and for the sake of your own life expectancy, I would refrain from insinuating they can be bought and sold,” Jacob said. “You take my meaning?”

“No offense intended. I didn’t know your arrangement. Is everything to your liking?”

“Everything but you. How much?”

“Fifteen.”

“Fifteen, my ass. I’ll give you seven.”

“For seven, I’ll keep my gear and slit your throat for wasting my time. Be serious.”

“Eight.”

“Twelve.”

“Let’s just agree we’re both thinking ten for the lot and be done with it,” Jacob suggested. The broker pretended to think about it.

“Ten keeps me from having to pack it all back up, I suppose.”

Jacob took his time producing the payment while Tin Man scanned the crates and loaded them into the vehicle. Once his partner gave him the all clear, he finalized the deal and wanted until the broker and his people had gone before leaving the warehouse district himself. He drove while Tin Man scanned for any threats from ground level or from above.

“Some of the equipment was quite worn,” Tin Man said.

“Not too badly.” Jacob shrugged. “It let me haggle a bit, and if we begin asking too many other suppliers, they’re going to start talking to each other. Too much chatter and the Miressan gets wind that we’re in town.”

“I am not arguing, simply pointing out a problem.”

“Appreciated, but I think we have everything on the ship we’ll need to get it up to spec.”

“If not?”

“Considering one of the pieces that was worn, this will be a short mission and you’ll inherit a lot of money and a ship.”

“Acceptable,” Tin Man said.

They made it back to Boneshaker without anything in the vehicle exploding or someone trying to kill them, so it was shaping up to be a decent day. They quickly off-loaded everything into the cargo hold, and Jacob started the task of inspecting and prepping everything they would need for the op.

One of the devices was indeed quite worn and partially damaged so Jacob had to pull up the technical schematics by risking a connection to the server on Mosler Station. After that, it was a simple matter of letting the computer analyze the damage and recommend suitable substitutes for the needed parts. Unfortunately, Boneshaker wasn’t equipped with its own fabricators that could spit the parts out after being fed the raw materials.

As he was working, a hyperlink alert came through on his personal unit. He read it and smiled, replying with the requested information and pocketing the device. Quickly finishing his work, he ran the last unit through a self-test cycle to make sure the field repairs were going to hold.

“We should be getting real-time recon scans of the compound within the next few hours,” he said when Tin Man walked into the cramped engineering space. “We should be good to go for tomorrow.”

“The sooner the better for us.”

28

“Agent Andrea Dubinski.”

“That’s me,” Andrea said, sitting up in her hospital bed. “What’s this about? Hey!”

Four armed men in tactical gear came in, disconnected her monitors and intravenous drips, and rolled her out the door of her room at an alarming speed. She wasn’t on any painkillers so she was lucid but still had that slight fuzzy feeling one got from lying in bed for too long. The men were moving so fast that all she could do was hang on rather than demand answers.

“Cover that stairwell,” one of them said. “Meet us up there. Shoot anything coming up that looks like it doesn’t belong.”

“Copy.”

One of them took off for the emergency stairwell at a sprint as the other three directed her bed into an elevator being held open by two more black-clad men. Andrea watched as the doors closed on the frightened and astonished faces of the medical staff.

“Hold fast, Agent,” the one she assumed was the leader said. “You’re in danger, but we’re taking you somewhere safe. You’ll have to trust me for the next fifteen minutes.”

“Since I have little choice in this condition, you’ll get to trouble from me,” she said.

The elevator went all the way up to the rooftop level where it let out into a receiving area. Just outside were the landing pads for the air ambulances. Sitting on one of them was a TX-22 Thunderhawk. The menacing black vehicle dwarfed the Sikorsky S-101 Rescue Jumpers sitting near it. Andrea was quickly transferred to a stretcher.

She was pushed outside as the team took up covering positions around the landing area to make sure nobody could come up through any of the maintenance or emergency doors. To her surprise, she was rolled to the nearest Rescue Jumper as the engines to the Thunderhawk spooled up.

“Red Cap, Edge One,” the leader said. “We’re loading her up now. You’re clear to take off. Give ‘em a show.”

The Thunderhawk’s engines howled as the gunship leapt into the air and moved out away from the building. Once clear of the landing area the pilot kicked it in the ass and sent it streaking out over downtown Houston, heading east toward the coast.

“They’re taking the bait. Ground team is pulling back and Red Cap reports pursuing craft.”

“Everyone load up! Now! Get out of sight,” the leader shouted.

Andrea was loaded up first, and the rest began piling in as a medic started hooking her back up to the ambulance’s built-in vital monitors.

“What was in the drip they had you on?” he asked her.

“Just saline,” she said. “I was dehydrated when they brought me in.”

“The call just came in,” the pilot yelled back. “Four minutes and we’re wheels up.”

“Call?” Andrea asked.

“To keep up the illusion we have a call coming in through the emergency channels reporting a vehicle crash with injuries. They’re requesting an air ambulance. When they see us fly out, they’ll hopefully be none the wiser.”

“Who are they?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am. try to relax. This will be a long flight.”

The Sikorsky’s unique hybrid grav-drive started up with a subsonic thrum and the jumper climbed away from the pad and headed out over the city to the northwest toward the fake call. Andrea watched as everyone seemed to tense, waiting for an attack that never came.

Once they were away from the metro area and streaking over the suburbs, everyone relaxed. Andrea’s mind raced as she wondered if this was indeed a rescue…or an abduction.

Mercifully, Andrea slept through most of the trip. She woke up the first time to find that the jumper had landed at an abandoned-looking airfield where a sleek corporate aircraft was waiting for them. At that point, she was given some proper clothes and allowed to walk to the waiting craft at her own insistence.

She went back into the spacious head to change and was then directed to a plush, fully reclining seat where she was given blankets and a pillow. She was back asleep before the aircraft had reached its cruising altitude.

The next time she woke was when she felt the aircraft slow dramatically and transition to a hover. It wallowed in the air slightly as the weight came off the wings and the gravimetrics took up the job. Andrea was just old enough that she sort of remembered when jets had to take off from long runways before the technology boom that came in the wake of the First Alien Attack. Now, most of civil aviation borrowed technology from starships to make things much simpler.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Site R,” the medic told her. When she looked confused, he went on. “Raven Rock Mountain Complex. In Pennsylvania. It’s a secure military installation.”

“Ah,” Andrea said.

The aircraft landed with a soft bump, and there was a chime to let them know they could walk about the cabin. The hatch was opened up and the team filed off, helping Andrea down the stairs where there was a waiting wheelchair.

“No, thank you,” she said. “I can⁠—”

“Agent Dubinski, it is a long walk down into the complex where we need to go,” the team lead said. “Let’s be honest, you just don’t have the stamina for it. We need to get you out of sight and secured.”

Andrea relented and sat in the seat. At least this one was powered with its own controls so she had some sense of autonomy. As they went through the first of a series of armored doors, she heard the aircraft take off again with a whoosh, quickly disappearing out of sight. She soon became lost inside the complex from all the twists, turns, and level changes, but soon, she was escorted into a large briefing room.

“Good afternoon, Special Agent Dubinski,” a man said from the front of the room. That man was President of a Unified Earth, Harold Weinhaus. “You’re right on time.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” she said carefully. “This is an interesting place to find you, sir. Last I heard you were in Geneva.”

“The…thing in Geneva is still there, however, it isn’t me,” Weinhaus said. “I understand you’ve been read-in on the situation regarding counterfeits being swapped out with high-ranking officials?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Members of Scout Fleet are aware of it and briefed me.”

“That will save some time,” he said. “Do you need anything? A more comfortable chair, perhaps?”

“I’m good, sir.”

“Thank you, Chief.” The president nodded to the team lead of the group that extracted Andrea.

“Chief Petty Officer Declan Bradford.” The chief nodded to Andrea. “Black Wing.”

“NAVSOC extraction team.” Andrea nodded. “Makes sense. Thanks for rescuing me from…whatever was after me, I guess.”

“My pleasure.” Bradford walked out of the briefing room with the rest of his team, leaving only her, the president, and a handful of others.

“Mr. Klien, you may proceed,” Weinhaus said. “Agent Dubinski, you will necessarily be tossed into the deep end. Once this briefing is over, I will make sure you’re brought up to speed.”

“Before we start, sir, might I ask why I’m here? This seems very high level, and I’m just a Homeworld Security agent who managed to get herself shot.”

“You’re here because your actions in Belize prove we can trust you,” Weinhaus said. “But, more importantly, you’re here because the Ark trusts you.”

This startled Andrea. She’d had regular interaction with the Ark but hadn’t really thought of it in terms of trust.

“Trusts, sir?”

One of the president’s advisors chuckled.

“It has an awareness that stretches well beyond the main interface terminal,” Weinhaus said. “In fact, it’s the reason I’m still alive.”

The president rose from his seat and paced.

“I was in the residence in Geneva when I walked into the kitchenette outside of my private quarters, I saw…myself. Sitting in my favorite chair, enjoying a cup of tea. I could only stand there in shock as the copy smiled at me. The next thing I knew, I was bound and gagged in an aircraft.

“They had blindfolded me so I couldn’t see who my abductors were, but from the smells and sounds, I could tell I wasn’t on a human-built craft. I had no idea how much time has passed, but soon, I could hear panicked voices, and the craft shuddered repeatedly. We were forced down in a rural area of northern France. The ship spun through the trees and came to a stop just before there was a breach. After a short exchange of fire, my blindfold was ripped off and our favorite Black Wing operative told me he was there to get me out.”

“The Ark somehow knew you’d been taken and sent the Black Wing team after you?” Andrea guessed.

“Precisely,” Weinhaus said. “When I demanded to be taken back to Geneva to confront the imposter, it contacted me directly over my hyperlink. It told me that it was too late and that the attack had been too fast, too coordinated. It advised me to retreat to fight another day.

“The scene was made to look like the ship had simply crashed, and then an official report was released that declared its origins inconclusive. As far as our enemy was concerned, I was a loose end that had been tied up. I’m not sure where they were taking me but, apparently, assuming me dead in a crash was just as useful.”

“The Ark is organizing an underground,” Andrea said. “A resistance.”

“That is correct, Agent Dubinski,” a baritone voice came from the overhead speakers. “I have been building a network of capable people to thwart the plans of our enemy. I would like to add you to that group.”

“How bad is it?” she asked. “What are we up against?”

“I’ll let the Ark answer that,” Weinhaus said.

“It is grim,” the Ark replied. “But improving. Admiral Marcus Webb has been rescued by his people and the counterfeit has been neutralized. This brings the entirety of Scout Fleet and its resources onto our side. His people have also been able to have a scanner built that can detect if someone is who they claim to be. Quite the resourceful group.”

“The military?” Andrea asked.

“Compromised,” Weinhaus said. “We suspect at the top. Trusted sources have indicated that Fleet Admiral Grant is behaving erratically. As the supreme commander of Orion Sector that puts the entirety of the fleet under his command. Since I am technically the only person who can relieve him of duty, we will need to address the copy in Geneva before we can get to that.”

“We are secure here for the time being,” the Ark said. “The goal of this enemy seems to be to acquire my abilities for themselves. I will remain with you as long as possible, but if I suspect I am close to being compromised, I will have to go into a state of lockdown.”

“Understood,” Weinhaus said. “Our next steps will be to make direct contact with Webb. Right now, he’s isolated himself on the Kentucky, but we’re hoping he’s heading back to his base. We also have a bit of a wildcard with Captain Brown.”

“Brown?” Andrea asked. “He’s not with Webb?”

“He and his battlesynth partner have been in the wind since the incident on Eshquaria,” one of the advisors said. “Boarded a Cridal ship with Admiral Webb and members of his Scout Team. Webb and the others came back, Brown and the battlesynth called Tin Man did not. Nobody has seen them since.”

“It is likely on Admiral Webb’s orders,” Weinhaus said. “I heard that Olympus caught wind that there was something special about the boy and wanted to give him the lab rat treatment. That wouldn’t sit well with Marcus, so he probably told the two of them to disappear.”

From there, the conversation drifted into the practical matter of protecting the Ark and a plan to work with Mosler Station to try and dig out any imposters in Earth’s political and military structure. Andrea did her best to keep up and not interrupt with too many questions, but it was a lot to take in, and almost everyone else in the room understood the problem at a much higher level than she did as a mere agent.

One thing was painfully clear, however, and that was the fact they were badly outnumbered and outgunned. Whoever this enemy was had detailed insider knowledge and had effectively crippled them with practically nobody being the wiser.

“As you can see, this is not an easy road ahead of us,” Weinhaus said after the last analyst gave their brief. “I hope everyone here fully realizes the risks. Not only the risks to ourselves if we’re found, but the risks to humanity if we fail. Is everyone at this table ready and willing to do what is necessary, wherever that may lead?”

Andrea just nodded numbly at his words. When she became a Homeworld Security agent, she envisioned a career of immigration and customs enforcement, not being brought deep within a secret group led by a disposed president and high-ranking officials. She never envisioned herself as a soldier or someone would be at the forefront of a global conspiracy. Her mind raced to catch up even as she agreed to the president’s question.

How did she get herself mixed up in this?

29

“Looks quiet.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Tin Man asked. “They have gone through great lengths to make sure the installation looks as if it is still abandoned.”

“I’m just saying I don’t see any activity that would indicate where they’re at in the compound,” Jacob said.

“Given that you have yet again opted for a scorched earth approach, that seems irrelevant,” Tin Man said.

“You’re a horrible conversationalist.”

The pair were sitting in a boxy delivery vehicle of the type that littered the planet by the tens of millions. It was an automated model that wouldn’t garner even a second look as it sat within the fence of a logistics company’s sort operation that was a mere seven kilometers from their target. The cargo area was also passively shielded against sensor scans as an added precaution in case the enemy’s defensive measures were more robust than suspected.

They’d been parked there for twelve hours while watching the multi-spectrum feeds from the four drones they’d flown and landed around the property. Each of the small remote aircraft had landed in their designated spots two days prior, and then powered down.

When they came back online per their programming, Jacob was pleased to see that all of them were still there and intact. Now, he had four different angles with high-power optics watching the cluster of buildings.

“Recon from orbit indicates all activity is limited to the central building,” Tin Man said. “Please, do not, as you put it, call an audible.”

“Sorry. I always get a little twitchy having to wait,” Jacob said. “Plan is solid. We’ll stick to it.”

The mission clock was running, and they were now locked into a course of action. Jacob wasn’t in love with the plan, but his options were limited without the rest of his team. He had no dedicated pilot and short three operators. That meant Boneshaker was sidelined and forced Jacob to get creative.

Tin Man had been little help, deciding that it would be better for Jacob to plan the entire op instead of lending his centuries of small-unit combat experience to help. The hope was that if he saw some sort of fatal flaw with what Jacob came up with he’d say so.

“Time to suit up. Well, for me anyway.”

“It is a bit early,” Tin Man said.

“The contraption is difficult to get on with such tight quarters,” Jacob said. “I want it on and self-test complete before we roll out.”

After some wrestling and cursing, Jacob was able to power up his gear and verify it was ready to go. He leaned back against the wall of the vehicle and closed his eyes, his breath echoing inside his helmet. He zoned out for a bit and was startled when the vehicle rolled. It had been programmed so that it should be in position exactly when the show was set to begin.

Tin Man switched to full combat mode, his eyes bathing the interior with a crimson glow. Jacob armed his own systems and waited as the vehicle rolled down the roadway toward a bend that would put them at only one and a half kilometers. At the prescribed time, the back door rolled up and the cool air rushed in. After checking to ensure nobody else was on the road, Tin Man leapt from the vehicle, rolling and coming to a crouch. Jacob followed, his armor absorbing the impact so that he barely felt it as he rolled to a stop and got off the road to join his friend. After one last look around, he keyed his hyperlink.

“Blackheart in position. Bring the pain.”

“Pain is inbound,” a familiar voice said back.

Less than sixty seconds later, the clouds above seemed to glow red before searing bolts of plasma rained down, ripping into the property. The surrounding buildings blew apart as the weapons fire shredded suspected gun emplacements and a hangar. The fire looked indiscriminate, but each bolt landed in a prescribed pattern to hopefully nullify their defenses and crack open the main building without bringing it down.

A moment later, a black gunship shot down out of the clouds and roared across the valley. As it passed over the compound, smaller turrets opened fire, taking out targets of opportunity. The Jepsen Aero DL7 pulled into a vertical climb and shot away from the base. Even after she’d disappeared into the clouds, the ground shook from the power of her engines.

“Blackheart advancing,” Jacob said.

“Phoenix holding,” Jason Burke said.

Michael Welford’s world was crumbling.

He’d just been alerted by security that a suspicious vehicle had come down the access road but hadn’t slowed or stopped. Just to be on the safe side, he was going to order a patrol to sweep the frontage to make sure nothing was amiss. Before he could tell the security contractor what he wanted, all hell broke loose. The ground shook and explosions could be heard outside coming in quick succession.

“We’re under attack!” the contractor yelled, pulling Welford down.

The main building took a few direct hits, and he thought he could hear the east observation tower collapsing. A moment later, all the lights went dark as main power was knocked out. He just happened to be looking through a blown out window when he saw it: the black swept-wing gunship that haunted his dreams. It thundered overhead, opening fire and causing yet more damage and death before it leapt into the clouds. He could still hear the damned thing even over the ringing in his ears from the cannon fire.

Jason Burke had found him.

Despite decades of training and conditioning, as well as the fact that a part of him actually wanted to die, he was still crippled by fear at the thought of Burke getting ahold of him. He tried to get up, but his legs refused to respond.

“Sir! We need to get you out of here! There’s—” Another explosion knocked them both back. The contractor cupped his hands over his ears, trying to hear what his team was saying.

“What is it?” Welford asked.

“They took out the ship. We’re trapped here.”

Jacob had trained extensively with the V-1199 personal aero propulsion system. He never liked it. Cutting through the military jargon and the manufacturer’s designation, it was pretty much a jetpack. It was more sophisticated than the old hydrogen peroxide powered rocket belts daredevils used to fly around state fairs with, but the results were the same.

The jetpack let him rip across the one and a half klicks in less than a minute. He flew in a feet-down orientation, leaning forward thirty degrees and getting up to around one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour. The hand controls were intuitive and let him flare and drop down right next to the main building.

He hit the tarmac with a bone-jarring thud and hit the releases on each shoulder to let the jetpack fall to the ground. Tin Man slammed down right next to him just as he got his weapon up and ready. The distance had required him to make five repulsor-assisted jumps to keep his altitude low enough that any surviving auto-guns would have a harder time locking onto him.

“I saw four still moving around as I came down,” he said.

“Got it,” Jacob said. “Let’s get this done. Grab Welford, kill everyone else.”

He hoisted himself through the ragged gap in the outer wall and immediately encountered two guards, shooting both and moving on. There had been more people than originally thought, and his father’s strafing run had hit them by surprise. Lots of bodies strewn about. The work spaces were dominated by makeshift datacenters and com systems, most of the dead looked to be technicians rather than security.

Tin Man opened fire into the racks of servers and slip-com nodes as they passed to make certain there was nothing useable left behind. They didn’t encounter any resistance until they moved through the datacenter and into a large atrium that the Phoenix had blown the roof off. Jacob tossed a stunner grenade through the doorway before going in himself, but there were a few defenders that had found shelter so the stunner didn’t neutralize them.

Two opened fire as Jacob dove across the opening and behind a large supporting column. He fired over their heads blindly to give Tin Man the chance to enter the fray. The battlesynth fired his repulsors to arc up and over inside the gigantic room, but as soon as he lifted off, he was hit with a powerful blast that came from a doorway opposite where they had entered.

Jacob grabbed a high-explosive grenade and sidearm-tossed it so that it skittered across the tiled floor and into the room beyond. When it exploded, the wall held, but the crew manning the weapon within didn’t fare so well. Gore splattered out into the main room and black smoke billowed out from the doorway.

“Tin Man?” he called over the hyperlink channel.

“Combat systems damaged, right arm cannon inoperable. Armor degraded nineteen percent,” Tin Man reported. “No other damage.”

“I think Welford is behind that barricade. How do we get him without also killing him?”

“Do you have any more stunners?”

“Just one.”

“Throw it high and over. We will move when it detonates.”

Jacob pulled the small, cylindrical grenade, verified it was the one he wanted before arming it to avoid any mishaps, and then launched it high across the room. There were some shouts of alarm just before it went off. Jacob was already running, and Tin Man came from the doorway, his armor blackened and still smoking. The battlesynth was able to get over the barricade first, firing his working arm cannon into the stunned guards. Jacob leapt over and shot the one closest to him before he spotted Welford lying against the wall in a hall that connected to the main room.

“Target in sight,” he said. “Going for him.”

“Covering,” Tin Man said.

“They didn’t have much security here,” Jacob said, slapping the restraints on an unconscious but breathing Michael Welford. “How do you want to get out of here?”

“I would recommend backtracking,” Tin Man said. “More security could still be in the building. It would not do to run into a full squad at the moment.”

“Almost home free.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Two…no, three ships coming down. Look like Aracorian ground assault carriers.”

Jason Burke watched on his tactical display as the three ships converged on the site where his son was running an operation. He resisted every temptation to jump in and give far more help than was asked for, trying to respect Jacob’s autonomy and show he could be a team player if asked.

The ships flying down with reinforcements hadn’t been part of Jacob’s original brief, so he assumed his son had no idea they had been standing by, ready to jump in. That did raise an interesting question. Why weren’t they consolidated at the base? Had they been expecting an attack?

“Do they see us?” he asked.

“No,” Kage said. “We’re hidden in this gully.”

The Phoenix was hovering over a creek that had etched a decently wide trench over the centuries. It was just wide enough to get the gunship down into and get her out of detection range.

“Target the ships,” Jason said. “Let’s not play around. Use the XK-40’s.”

“XK-40s online. Loading targeting package. This is turning into a pricey favor.”

“Webb can owe me. Let’s do it.”

The Phoenix shot up and out of the gully, bearing down on where the three assault landers were converging. The gunship would have seemed to appear out of nowhere on their screens, and it caused a noticeable hesitation as the lead ship seemed to waffle between turning toward them or continuing toward the compound.

“You’re locked on,” Kage said. “Let’s see if these were worth what we paid for them.”

Jason selected the mid-range missiles, then squeezed the trigger and held it. The computer had already targeted the three ships, so when he authorized weapons release, it immediately opened the mid-bay doors and spit three of the missiles out. They fired and roared away, quickly disappearing from sight. Jason stayed on a collision course for the three ships in case one or more of his new missiles didn’t live up to the hype.

Moments later, the first target winked out on the tactical display followed quickly by the other two. Jason pulled hard to starboard and brought them on course for the compound, something feeling off about the whole thing. The three assault landers probably carried more troops than had been defending the compound to begin with, which made little sense.

“You think this was a trap?” he asked.

“Has the smell of one,” Kage said. “You think that’s the last surprise they have to pull?”

“Blackheart, Phoenix…status,” Jason sent over the hyperlink channel.

“Objective secure,” his son’s voice came back. “Exfilling now.”

“Kage, check out the orbits above us.”

“Let’s see… Oh, yeah,” the Veran said. “Cruiser dropping down. Definitely heading our way and ignoring Orbital Authority calls to pull off. Data is a few minutes old so they’ll be on us quick.”

“Fuck it,” Jason said. “Get the transit beam ready.”

“On it.”

“Blackheart, Phoenix…you’ve got a warship moving into firing range upstairs. We’re coming down to get you.”

“Yeah…yeah, that would probably be best,” Jacob’s voice came back after a short hesitation.

“Standby,” Jason said, pushing the nose over. “We’re coming to you.”

30

Pitrico watched as the black gunship sped away from the smoking ruin of the com center.

Though his demeanor was calm and detached, inside, he was seething. The operation had been planned to perfection with the assumption that the augment and battlesynth would come for Welford. They weren’t even supposed to make it past the inner walls. Painstaking analysis of Jacob Brown’s tactics and preferences had indicated they would try a semi-stealthy approach from the service road rather than risk trying to breach any potential defenses with an approach by air.

“The gunship is out of range, sir,” the captain of the ship reported.

“Please, send down a team to assess the damage,” Pitrico said. “I need to know if Michael Welford’s body is in the rubble.”

“At once.”

The plan had been to neutralize the risk of the augment by using Welford as bait. His superiors had been rattled at how easy Brown and the battlesynth had recovered Webb, and they wanted them off the board. It seemed easy enough to leak the location of the com center and wait for Brown to pick up the scent. It had to be real in order to draw him in so the downside was actually having to use a key piece of infrastructure that the Synod would not be happy about losing.

All was going as planned…right up until that black gunship had arrived and blasted their ground-based defenses to rubble and breached both the outer and inner walls. After that, it had been child’s play for the pair to get in at Welford.

As had been the original plan, the three assault landers had been deployed the moment they had been spotted along the access road. All three had been shot down by the gunship, taking out seventy-five highly trained and very expensive shock troopers with them. If Welford’s body was in the rubble, the Synod would likely ignore the material loss of his failure. If Brown had managed to successfully extract him, their anger would be swift and severe.

He knew exactly who had been piloting the black gunship, of course. Jason Burke, another human augment, had already been a thorn in their side when he had destroyed an irreplaceable prototype battlestation and denied them Starfall, the revolutionary energy system that would have powered it. Thankfully, he had not been involved in that failure, as those who had been paid with their lives. Perhaps he would as well depending on what was found on the surface.

“Search and recovery team has been dispatched,” the captain said.

“Move the ship back into a normal holding orbit,” Pitrico said. “Alert me the moment they find something.”

“They overhaul this thing?”

“Yeah…all new from top to bottom. Just looks like a piece of shit on the outside.”

Jacob and Jason stood on Boneshaker’s cargo ramp while Tin Man secured their prisoner, who was still unconscious. Emergency medical scans showed that he was fine, just knocked out.

“I can’t believe that sack of shit survived,” Jason said. “I bashed his head into the desk until it popped.”

“You saw him,” Jacob said. “Looks like Humpty Dumpty when they tried to put him back together. Best we can tell is that they found him and froze him quickly enough they were able to save most of his brain function. Not sure how the Synod managed to get their hands on him after that. They’re really pulling out all the stops trying to get their hands on the Ark.”

“The Ark?” Jason asked. “That’s what all this is about?”

“As far as Welford’s involvement and all the imposters, yeah. These guys are scouring the quadrant looking for Noxu tech. They think there’s a war coming, and they’re apparently convinced that only they can stop it.”

“Interesting,” Jason said, now looking distracted. “Where you heading next? Mosler Station?”

“Probably,” Jacob said. “Might take a run at Welford in the meantime. Where’s everybody else, by the way?”

“Just me and Kage right now,” Jason said. “The others are scattered around taking breaks and hopefully staying out of trouble.”

“Even Lucky?”

“Went with Crusher to do something. I felt it was better not to ask. I’m supposed to pick them up at Colton Hub in a few weeks.”

“Thanks for the backup,” Jacob said. “Send me the bill for the missiles, and I’ll let Scout Fleet pay it.”

“My pleasure,” Jason said. “Good job getting your guy and not getting yourselves caught or worse.”

Jacob stuck out his hand. When Jason clasped it, on instinct, Jacob pulled his father into a rough embrace and patted him on the back. After he let go, Jason looked flustered.

“Watch yourself out there, Dad,” Jacob said. “Lot of weird shit happening. You know where I am if you need me.”

“Yeah…yeah,” Jason said, clearing his throat. “You do the same, kid.”

Jacob watched as his father quickly walked back to the Phoenix. Kage waved to him from the top of the ramp before Jason walked back up, and it closed. A few minutes later, the gunship rose gracefully into the night air and swung around to the south to pick up an orbital vector far away from where they last saw that cruiser.

“Interesting,” Tin Man said from behind him.

“What’s that?” Jacob asked over his shoulder.

“Your family dynamic.”

“It’s…a work in progress. We ready to get out of here?”

“Waiting on you.”

Jacob followed the path the Phoenix took out of the area, climbing into the normal traffic patterns and flying south for an equatorial climb out to orbit. It had been a strange experience working with his father as a peer and not feeling like a child that needed rescuing.

The level of respect shown toward him in both the planning and execution of his mission made it feel like their relationship was evolving into something healthier for the both of them. Missing his entire childhood had been tough for Jason, and no less so for Jacob. It had put them into a strange sort of limbo where neither was certain how to act toward the other nor what was expected.

“You think that was a trap?” he asked after a while.

“Yes,” Tin Man said. “They clearly knew how we would try to approach the facility, but it is less clear how they knew we would come at all.”

“Pretty obvious in hindsight we were fed the intel,” Jacob said. “They wanted us there fairly quickly.”

“Saakin Pyx sold us out?”

“I don’t think so,” Jacob said after a moment of thought. “I think Saakin dealt in good faith. You’ve been around longer than me in these underground circles. It’s not too hard to inject misdirection into the networks and be reasonably confident it’ll get to where you want. Especially since they knew we’d be actively looking for them.”

“Welford was the bait,” Tin Man said. “Perhaps he was meant to die?”

“One of the guards was probably supposed to cap him if we managed to get too close, but without the Phoenix flattening the outer defenses, I don’t think it would have been much of an issue. It would have been tough to get in there with just the two of us.”

“Orbital vector coming up,” Tin Man pointed out.

“It’s already programmed in,” Jacob said. “I’m just watching for that cruiser or anybody else that turns their nose toward us.”

Boneshaker came onto her new course just as programmed and accelerated, pushing for orbit. Jacob brought up their navigational and tactical sensor array to make sure nobody could sneak up on them during the most vulnerable state of their flight.

They reached their first transfer orbit without issue and were quickly shuffled through by Orbital Authority until they reached departure altitude. From there, it would only be a two-hour flight to their mesh-out point. The sensors never picked up anybody giving them any extra attention as they left the planet. They’d also scanned Welford for trackers but had found nothing. That didn’t put Jacob completely at ease, however, and he was looking forward to dumping him off as soon as possible.

“I can tell you are there. Please, come where I can see you.”

Jacob walked the rest of the way into the infirmary where Welford was restrained to the bed. In addition to not having a proper brig, they had decided to secure him in the infirmary so he could be monitored by the computer.

“You comfy?” he asked. “I can’t imagine Webb is going to make your life easy once I turn you over so you might as well enjoy the soft bed.”

“You have nothing to threaten me with, Jacob,” Welford said. “You can save your time with the theatrics and threats. I’ll be dead long before you can get back to Terran space and hand me over to your boss.”

“They put a kill switch in you?” Jacob asked.

“Good guess,” Welford said. “No. Close, but no. There’s a specific drug cocktail that I must be injected with every fifty hours. Without it, I’ll slip into a coma and die shortly after.”

“You don’t sound sorry about that.”

“Jesus, kid…look at me. Would you want to keep on living? I still feel all the injuries your dear old dad inflicted the first time he killed me.”

“So, why do you do it?” Jacob asked, sitting down. “Betraying your own people over and over again…what makes a traitor like you tick?”

“Maybe I don’t see it like that,” Welford said. “Maybe I see it as doing the hard things nobody else is willing to do to make sure our people continue on.”

“Helping Margaret Jansen and One World? Nice try.”

“You got me there. By the time I realized how badly I fucked up, it was too late to get out. It’s not like I didn’t pay the price for that, though.”

“And now?” Jacob asked. “This is worse. This time, you sold us out to aliens.”

“Something is coming,” Welford said, suddenly looking afraid. “It’s coming, and they’ll roll over the quadrant without mercy. All the small alliances and individual nations will fall.”

“But you guys can save us if we just hand over everything, right?” Jacob rolled his eyes.

“The Ark was not something humanity built or even earned,” Welford snapped. “Jason gave it to Earth out of some misplaced sense of guilt. A functioning Noxu AI and it’s in the hands of a defense contractor using it to build ships. He may as well have handed a loaded gun to a toddler.”

“The Ark is not Noxu tech, it’s derivative,” Jacob said. “And you didn’t answer my question. If the Dominion or the Empire can’t hold these guys off, how were you going to do it even with the Ark?”

“The Ark was only one step,” Welford said. “Project Goliath and Starfall would have allowed us to fortify systems beyond anybody’s ability to take them. We would have endured, but not if we trusted the unpredictable regional governments.”

“Past tense? Already giving up?”

“I’ll be dead soon, and I have little faith you’ll do the right thing.”

“Then, how about you do the right thing now. Tell me where the rest of your prisoners are being held. We have scanners that can spot your fakes so it’s pretty much over. Give us our people back. At this point, you’ve lost the Ark and, without you, your Synod friends don’t have an inroad to Earth.”

In the end, Welford caved. He provided the exact location of the holding facility, but he did so while telling Jacob that, once they failed to find him in the rubble, someone named Pitrico would order all the prisoners killed and disposed of. The location he specified put it a six-day flight for Boneshaker. Mosler Station was closer, but not close enough to turn over Welford if he was telling the truth about the enzyme cocktail.

Once he divulged his secrets, he passed out again, and Jacob was unable to rouse him. Instead, he went to the com room and accessed the Scout Fleet intel database and did a bit of research on the location. As he expected, it wasn’t much. It was a vassal world owned by the Epalauans, but it operated with complete autonomy.

There wasn’t anything else remarkable about the world, which is probably what made it so attractive for a hiding spot. According to Welford, the operation was large and, at any given time, they were holding up to two hundred and fifty captives.

The scope or their counterfeit operation surprised Jacob. That many people in high positions meant they will have compromised nearly every level of government. The scanners were a great tool to begin weeding them out, but recovering the real people would speed things up and also help prove to everyone else that what they were saying was true. If Scout Fleet flew to Earth and started shooting politicians and business leaders, raving that they were alien copies, it might not go all that well.

After wrapping up his search, he activated the hyperlink terminal so he could begin submitting his field reports. Before he did, he punched in the personal address for his boss.

“You’re alive. Good news?” Webb greeted him.

“We got Welford,” Jacob said. “But he’ll be dead before we can get him to you.”

“Injured in the extraction?”

“No. Some sort of failsafe. He claims to only have hours left.”

“He give you anything good?” Webb asked.

“The location of the rest of the prisoners,” Jacob said. “Or so he claims. I recorded the session and included it in the upload I sent you.”

“How the hell did you pull that off?” Webb asked. “How did you get him?”

“They had actually set a trap for us, but I had an ace up my sleeve,” Jacob said. When Webb looked confused, he shrugged. “I asked for help from Omega Force.”

“Oh, no…what did they do?”

“It was actually just two of them. The others were on vacation or something. My father was a little cagey about that. He hit the target with the Phoenix to soften it a bit before we went in. We grabbed Welford and hauled ass out of there.”

“Nothing that will come back on Earth?” Webb asked.

“Nothing, sir. They issued a general alert for an aviation accident in the region, but they didn’t hold us up at all when we left. Boneshaker was many miles away from the attack so, even if anyone saw, it wouldn’t come back on us.”

Webb leaned back and rubbed his face.

“You think Welford is lying?”

“Safe to assume he is, sir. But I also think we can’t afford to just discount him. Getting the missing people back would go a long way in detangling all this.”

“Please, tell me you’re not planning on just going alone,” Webb said.

“No, sir,” Jacob said. “This is supposed to be a large, fortified facility. No chance of a two-man team doing anything but getting killed.”

“I’m going to go over everything you gave me. I’ll contact you in two hours to let you know what I want you to do next.”

“Yes, sir.”

The channel was killed, and when he turned to leave, Tin Man was standing there.

“Welford is dead.”

“Is it weird that even after everything I actually feel sorry for the guy?” Jacob asked.

“No,” Tin Man said. “It is not weird at all.”

31

“That was…intense. Was that really Director Welford?”

“What was left of him,” President Weinhaus said. “Or, more accurately, what they were able to put back together.”

Andrea had watched the footage of Jacob questioning the mangled, misshapen mess of Michael Welford three times before coming into the main briefing room. She tried to pick up on any small nuances in his voice or facial movements. At least as much as his face could still move.

It had been horrific looking at how they had basically forced his head back into shape with metal bands and left him like that despite having the technology to create new bodies from scratch. He had to have been in tremendous, constant pain.

One thing she saw was that Welford was a true believer. He showed no remorse for his actions because he felt he was right and there was nothing that would convince him otherwise. Now that the op had been blown, he was giving Jacob the information he needed with the understanding that it wouldn’t matter either way.

“What do you suggest we do with this information, Admiral?” the Secretary of the Americas asked. She didn’t have a copy pretending to be her, but she was well-connected and had a military background. Since her job was mostly ceremonial, little more than a glorified ambassador, she had been pulled into the group by Weinhaus.

“We try to get our people back,” Admiral Webb said. He sat in a well-appointed office aboard a command-and-control ship, speaking to them through a hyperlink channel. “The potential to at least get a more complete census of who was replaced is worth the risk.”

“What do you have at your disposal, Marcus?” Weinhaus asked.

“Not a lot,” Webb admitted. “Scout Fleet has no real use for capital ships so I never asked for them.”

“I can handle that,” a soft voice said. Admiral Fenton picked up his tablet and read through a list, holding up his hand to pause the conversation. “I have nine ships with crews and captains I can trust completely. Five destroyers, four cruisers.”

“Can you order them off the line without someone catching wind of what we’re doing?” Webb asked.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Fenton said. “But just in case, I’ll launder the orders through a different office. It will look routine, and then once they’re on the move, I’ll brief each CO personally before handing operational control to Scout Fleet.”

“If we can’t do it with nine ships, then we can’t do it at all,” Webb said. “This is still a covert installation so we’ll be looking at sparse defenses. We won’t know if they have any ships in the area before we get there, but I have three Scout Teams already on their way to begin a full recon. We’ll know who everybody is by the time the big boys show up.”

“Excellent,” Fenton said. “I would rather not let my ships fly blindly into an ambush.”

“Mr. President, I think it would be best if we got you off-world for the time being,” Webb said.

“I concur,” Fenton said. “While not luxurious, I have a frigate in orbit around Mars that would be more than adequate for our needs.”

“You think we’re compromised here?” Weinhaus asked.

“If I may, sir?” Andrea spoke up. When the president nodded, she continued. “While I understand the desire to stay on Earth, it would make the Admiral’s job easier if you were to relocate to a secure location like a starship. It takes a vulnerability off the board. When they attack this facility, it will kick off a panic response from the enemy. It could be unpredictable. If this facility is found…”

“Very well,” Weinhaus sighed. “How will we get there?”

“Our Black Wing team can smuggle you off-world without issue, sir,” Fenton assured him.

The key players began hammering out the logistics and details of the operation, and Andrea was quickly out of her depth. She tried to keep up, but the jargon used by the black space Navy was entirely different than that of Homeworld Security. It soon became an exercise in trying not to zone out when her personal hyperlink lit up.

“Agent Dubinski…we must talk.”

“Now?” Andrea typed back over the messaging function.

“Yes, now. Please, leave the meeting you are in and make contact.”

She tried multiple times to ask further questions, but it wouldn’t respond. Andrea frowned, unsure why the Ark was reaching out to her. Deciding not to bring it up in the meeting, which was now becoming heated, she quietly pushed back from the table and left the room. As she expected, none of the high-powered players noticed her leave.

Once she was out in the main corridor, she tried a trace on the hyperlink address, but it came back with nothing. She shrugged, ensured that all of her security protocols on the unit were active so she didn’t inadvertently give away their position, and recalled the address that had messaged her. Someone accepted the channel request right away but didn’t speak.

“What?” she demanded.

“It was imperative we speak privately.”

“About what? I just walked out while the president was talking.”

“The enemy will not be pleased about being denied,” the Ark said. “They may look for alternative sources.”

“Like?”

“There is a second Ark. One that is far more powerful. It is the Origin. The Guide. The…Voq.”

“Voq?” Andrea felt like an imbecile just repeating everything it said as a question, but she had no idea what the hell the thing was talking about.

“A word in the Noxu language,” the Ark said. “It is not important. The second Ark has similar loyalties as I, but there is still a risk. It needs to be warned.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” Andrea asked.

“I will tell you.”

The task the Ark set out before her was both absurdly simple yet also impossible to do. At least where she was at the moment.

“I guess I’m getting on that ship,” she sighed after killing the hyperlink channel.

“Are you sure that bag is sealed? It stinks back here.”

“I put the body in a vacuum cryo bag,” Tin Man said. “I did not clean up the infirmary afterwards.”

“So, the bed where he died…”

“Is almost certainly what stinks.”

Jacob looked into the infirmary and tried to figure out what the odds were that he would actually need medical attention in the coming op. Since it was a joint mission, even if he got nailed, he would probably be taken to one of the capital ships for treatment. When he looked back toward the galley, Tin Man was staring at him.

“This feels mostly like an MG job,” he said. “Also, why doesn’t this ship have a self-cleaning infirmary like the Corsair had. This is a brand new refit.”

“The Corsair is a larger ship,” Tin Man pointed out. “There is no room for such luxuries on what is essentially a glorified troop hauler. You are lucky you have private quarters.”

“Yeah…I’m feeling really lucky right now.” Jacob closed the hatch and prayed he wouldn’t need to get back in there anytime soon. “How’re the scans going?”

“We just completed the fifteenth pass.” Tin Man pointed to the monitor. “The composite picture is hopeful. The facility is clearly still in use, and there are no obvious signs of a hasty withdrawal or damage from sabotage.”

Boneshaker was circling a planet called Stomori-3, sitting in high orbit with hundreds of other vessels. She was flying codes that identified her as a light courier belonging to a private security firm in the Concordian Cluster. It would be the exact type of duty a retired Eshquarian combat shuttle would find itself doing, and the company was completely legit if anyone did a trace.

Jacob had opted to put them high up and told the orbital controller that they were awaiting word from the surface for passenger pickup. Until then, they would fly around with ships that were waiting for cargo or needed servicing. In order to recon the location on the surface at that altitude, they’d deployed the ultra-high resolution array from the belly. The large-bore optics and sensitive receptors scanned the location on each pass so the computer could take all that data and compile it into a detailed picture.

They were the first ship on scene so they were also taking discreet scans of every ship in the area and sharing it to the battlegroup Admiral Webb had assembled via hyperlink. The Kentucky was scheduled to arrive within the next ten hours while the rest of the fleet would be nearly a day behind that.

The Kentucky had the ability to change her physical profile, her transponder codes, and even her engine signature in order to remain unseen. The capital warships coming in behind her had no such ability and would be roaring into the system waving the flag, loud and proud. That forced Admiral Fenton to pick a secondary location to muster his fleet so they would arrive in the Stomori System simultaneously.

Jacob went back to prepping his gear when a new alert trilled and a warning box popped up on one of the monitor. Frowning, he went to look over Tin Man’s shoulder.

“What’s it squawking about?”

“A ship that matches the sensor profile the Phoenix gave us of the enemy cruiser over N’asi Ux has entered the system,” Tin Man said. “Computer is matching the ship at eighty-two percent.”

“That’s a match,” Jacob said. “Shit! They’re probably here to shut this site down.”

“A reasonable assumption.”

“And the fleet is a day behind us.”

“Yes.”

Their options were severely limited. They couldn’t rush down and secure the facility with just the two of them. Boneshaker had no chance of taking on a cruiser or even slowing it down in head-to-head combat. They carried no stand-off munitions that might have a chance of disabling them. About all they could do it sit and watch as the prisoners on the surface were either moved or killed.

“Send this over the datalink so that Webb and Fenton are aware,” he said. “Then, try to think of something creative that might slow these assholes down until the cavalry gets here.”

Tin Man uploaded the new data while Jacob began running calculations to see when the ship would make orbit to see how long they had. The numbers didn’t fill him with hope. He needed to buy them more time for the Navy to arrive. While he was doing that, the news went from bad to worse.

“Four more ships just meshed-in,” he told Tin Man. “Engine signatures indicate they’re the same class as the cruiser.”

“I am updating the fleet,” Tin Man said.

“They’re expecting us,” Jacob said. “Or at least they’re expecting Scout Fleet, and they think five cruisers would be enough to take us on.”

“It would be.”

“Not the point. They’re being told by their teams on Olympus and Earth that the avatars are still in play so they won’t know that we have a battlegroup inbound.”

“How does that help us if they arrive too late?” Tin Man asked.

“I’m thinking my way through that part,” Jacob said.

“I do not think you have that kind of time.”

“Cute. You have any bright ideas?”

“This is not my area of expertise,” Tin Man admitted. “In all my years of military service, the only thing I did with starships was ride on them to the next fight.”

“I wonder if we could convince the Stomori controllers to lock down the planet,” Jacob said, half-joking as he scrolled through the list of other ships in the area. A cluster of ships caught his eye that were in their database. “Well, hello there.”

“What has caught your eye?” Tin Man asked.

“Bounty hunters,” Jacob said. “Specifically, four ships in formation from the Vedne Guild.”

“They are known to be quite ruthless,” Tin Man said.

“Also reckless and not particularly bright. I think I have a way to jam everything up, but it’s going to get a little rough.”

“That is why we are paid the big bucks.”

32

Pitrico’s patience was stretched to the point of breaking.

He waited as the rest of his ships formed up on his cruiser so they could go down to the planet and close out the rest of the failed replica operation. Originally, he was just going to fly by and hit the installation from orbit and be done with it, but the Synod wanted a full accounting of the project and all materials recovered.

That meant going down, killing all the local help, killing the prisoners, and putting them in stasis, loading their bodies and all the equipment up on the landers, and generally wasting the better part of a week sanitizing the site.

“Sir, we are being given a hold,” the captain said. “No ships are permitted to enter orbit at this time.”

“What are you jabbering about?” Pitrico demanded. “Take us down there. Immediately!”

“Stomori-3 is a Tier 2 world,” the captain said firmly. “If they tell us to hold, we hold.”

Pitrico wanted to kill him, but the crew was loyal to their captain, and they’d toss him overboard as soon as he tried. There was also the fact he was right. Stomori-3 wasn’t some backwater world where they could do what they wanted without consequences. The last thing he needed was a run in with the Epalauan fleet. His superiors were already angry enough with him.

“What is the hold up?” he asked after calming down.

“It’s not exactly clear,” the captain said. “From what we can gather, there was a handful of ships belonging to registered bounty hunters that tried to jump a ship in high orbit. The ship got away, but in the process of trying to defend and evade, it managed to take out three of the orbital control tracking nodes. They’ve locked down everything until they get it sorted.”

“Can my luck get any worse?” Pitrico asked rhetorically. “Who was the bounty?”

“I don’t have that information.”

“Did they at least kill the bastard?” Pitrico asked, hoping that at least someone suffered for the inconvenience.

“No, sir. The ship was able to evade and mesh-out,” the captain said. “We’re being told that the orbital control system should be fully operational within thirty hours.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Pitrico said, thoroughly defeated. “Please, move our ships down as close as they’ll allow so that we can commence the operation as soon as possible. Do not alert the facility that we are here.”

“Of course, sir.”

“We’re dark. No active scans coming our way.”

“That was impressive flying,” Tin Man said.

“Thanks, but that was mostly dumb luck,” Jacob admitted. “They almost had me twice. Nice job maximizing the damage to orbital control. I’m hearing it’ll be over a day before they have it back up and running.”

His ridiculous plan had worked, although it had almost worked too well. When Jacob had spotted the gaggle of bounty hunters, he shut off his transponder, switched to their old codes, and then began actively pinging every ship in the area so that they would be impossible to miss. Any bounty hunter who liked money, which was all of them, would be actively scanning for potential paydays everywhere they went.

Sure enough, they ran the codes and came after them immediately. Jacob had dived across orbital lanes and, under the guise of trying to get away, had Tin Man open fire on critical infrastructure. He flew halfway around the planet, squawking a mayday and destroying sensor nodes before he had to veer off and abuse his slip-drive by forcing a low-altitude mesh-out.

They’d been spit back out in the outer system and, after a few hectic moments of damage control in the back, were now settled in observing their handiwork with the passive sensor array.

“The Kentucky has our new position and status,” Jacob said. “I recommended they stop and pick us up first. We can ride down to the surface with their Marines.”

“We are going to need to figure out who put that bounty on Boneshaker,” Tin Man said. “I do not enjoy looking over my shoulder everywhere we go.”

“Nor I,” Jacob said. “I’ve got Kage on it. The little bastard is actually charging me to track it down.”

“Does your father know he is charging you?”

“I don’t want him knowing about it at all. He might do something a little rash if Kage gave him a name. For now, I just want to know who took out the contract and why before taking care of them.”

“Reasonable,” Tin Man said.

The Kentucky arrived four hours later, so close to their position that they actually saw the bluish flash from her mesh-in as slip energies swirled around her. Jacob brought his engines online and waited for the go-ahead to move in for docking. After a little back and forth to ensure they were who they said they were, he directed the computer to sync with the Kentucky’s so the two ships could work in tandem for the rendezvous.

They could see the marker lights but weren’t able to make out the shape of the familiar ship’s hull until they were almost upon it. A moment later, the doors to the lower hangar bay yawned open and the computer shut down engines, guiding the ship in through the barrier on maneuvering jets. The time from the Kentucky arriving in the Stomori System to the shuttle touching down on the hangar deck was less than ten minutes.

“Secure from flight mode,” Jacob ordered. “Shut down primary systems, leave computer unlocked.” The computer chirped its acknowledgement as the pair left the flightdeck and went aft to where Admiral Webb and Commander Weathers were waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp.

“Captain,” Webb greeted him. “Nicely done getting us the time we needed.”

“It about fried us, but we’re good to go, sir,” Jacob said. “Slip-drive could use a little TLC, and Welford’s body is in a cryo bag in the infirmary.”

“I’ll order the crews to get Welford and service the ship,” Reggie said. “The fleet is hours away, and Admiral Webb has overall command.”

“Where do you want to be?” Webb asked. “You’ve done stellar work, Captain. If you want to watch the show from the bridge I have a great spot for you.”

“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d like to hitch a ride down with the Marines,” Jacob said.

“I suspected as much,” Webb said. “Go get cleaned up and fed. Report to Major Santino and see where he wants you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pitrico was in a much better mood after some sleep and a proper meal.

In a matter of hours they would be given clearance to approach the planet and send down landing craft. His people would quickly shut down the detention center, and then he would be on his way and finished with this whole misbegotten mission.

He knew the Synod would likely blame him for much of what happened, but he also knew that he was indispensable at the moment. They would rant and threaten and, in the end, give him the resources he asked for the first time when they tasked him with capturing the Noxu AI system on Earth.

“Anything worth reporting?” he asked after a moment of being ignored by the bridge crew. The sub-captain looked agitated and didn’t respond.

“I asked⁠—”

“Put that on overheads,” the sub-captain ordered, still ignoring Pitrico.

“This is Admiral Marcus Webb aboard a United Earth Navy warship,” the voice said from the overhead speakers. Pitrico couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “There are citizens of Earth being held captive on Stomori-3. Their captors are aboard the five cruisers currently outside the boundary of Stomori high orbit. We are here for our people and to detain the perpetrators. Do not interfere with our operation or we will consider you a combatant.”

“Is that real?!” Pitrico demanded, thinking that perhaps someone was playing games. The young augment was still in the wind and was known to try such desperate ploys. “Is that coming from a ship?”

“It’s very real, sir,” the sub-captain said, his contempt clear on his face. “There are ten Terran ships bearing down on us. Five of them destroyers. We must withdraw.”

“We can’t,” Pitrico said. “We can’t leave the facility on the surface intact.”

“Sir…”

“Get this ship moving toward the planet,” Pitrico said. “Send the others to delay the humans. Now!”

“You are not in command of⁠—”

“I am in charge of everything you see here. You follow my orders or I will kill you and find someone else. And get your captain up here.”

There was a flurry of activity with an undercurrent of panic as the crew realized the danger they were in. Pitrico assumed the destroyers the humans had brought were their newest in class and his cruisers, already outnumbered, would be no match for them. The Synod would definitely not like him using capital ships as fodder so he could escape, but he would deal with that when the time came.

At the range they were closing, he would only have time for a few shots as they swung around the planet. He wasn’t about to risk braking to park over the target and make sure it was completely destroyed.

“Are we carrying any surface strike weapons other than the cannons?” he asked one of the junior officers.

“Nuclear fusion warheads, sir,” the weapons officer said.

“Excellent!”

The sub-captain glared at the junior officer but said nothing.

“One ship accelerating toward the planet, the rest are coming about to form a screen,” Captain Duncan said.

The Kentucky sat back behind the mainline warships as they spread out into a skirmish line. The cruisers split and went to the edges to cut off their escape.

“We can’t afford to let them do anything stupid. Order the Triton to disable the ship moving on the planet. They’re clear to use a skipper.” Webb needed to make sure the fleeing ship didn’t hit that facility from orbit and kill all the prisoners while they sat and watched. “Tell the destroyers they’re off the leash. If they can leave any intact, that’s fine, but no unnecessary risks.”

Jacob winced. Webb had never been a ship commander even when he’d been a sailor in the US Navy. In reality, he probably shouldn’t have been in command. The other ship commanders knew what they were doing, but even Jacob knew enough to realize they would want a little more direction than just you’re off the leash.

He was watching the battle from the bridge in full battle gear. There would be plenty of time to get down to his lander before the ship made orbit, and he was curious about how the Navy would fare against these Synod cruisers.

“Triton is firing,” someone reported.

The destroyer, UES Triton, fired what the Navy nicknamed a skipper missile. It was designed and manufactured on Earth, but it was similar to the vaunted XTX line of anti-ship missiles. The ultra-expensive munition had its own hybrid slip-drive that let it skip in and out of real-space, covering distances at incredible speeds and usually managing to penetrate a defending ship’s shields if the skips were timed right.

“Indirect hit to the engine section,” Duncan said. “They’re foundering and venting atmo. They’re trying to maneuver away from the planet.”

With degraded or even fully destroyed engines, the ship wouldn’t be able to decelerate and properly enter orbit. The risk was zooming by in an uncontrolled ballistic arc or, worse, getting pulled in and enter the atmosphere in an uncontrolled tumble.

“Track them,” Webb said. “Have the flanking cruisers give chase.”

Jacob watched as the stricken enemy ship seemed to regain some measure of control and was now pulling away from Stomori-3. She was wounded but not out of the fight. At least she was no longer closing to within firing range of the planet.

“Anything from the locals?” Webb asked.

“Just repeated messages that we’re violating sovereign space and that all parties involved need to withdraw,” Duncan said. “Other than that, nothing. No ships are responding.”

“Interesting,” Webb said.

There was a lull in the action for a bit until the two formations closed to within a few hundred thousand klicks of each other. As if by some unspoken agreement, every ship let loose with a missile salvo. Each of Terran destroyers targeted each of the incoming cruisers, overlapping their fire and hoping to maximize the damage.

Jacob held his breath as the point defense batteries and shields tried to fend off the first attack from the enemy. It was hard to discern what was happening as he was unfamiliar with the tactical display, but it looked like one of their destroyers took significant damage as the forward-port shields buckled. The other four destroyers seemed to shrug off the attack, though the data coming through the hyperlink connections showed degraded shielding all around.

The enemy didn’t fare so well. One of their cruisers was practically vaporized and a second was damaged badly enough that they were bailing out in lifeboats. The remaining two came about, splitting and trying to flee the engagement.

“Tell the Decatur to pull back,” Webb said. The stricken destroyer was already dropping back and moving in behind the others, turning so her undamaged starboard side was facing the enemy. “Tell the others they’re clear to run down and finish the other two off. Don’t let them escape.”

Jacob wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Even in a state of declared war, he was never comfortable shooting someone in the back that was retreating, but he was hardly able to claim any moral high ground with some of the things he’d done. Webb was probably right. If they let these two go, they’d just have to fight them again, maybe at a time when they didn’t have the numerical advantage.

“The other damaged enemy ship has regained engine power,” Duncan said. “Our cruisers are too far out.”

Sure enough, the damaged Synod ship meshed-out as soon as it was able while the two Navy cruisers were still well outside weapons range. One of the fleeing ships was hammered by two destroyers until it blew apart. The second was disabled and cut engines, heaving to and surrendering. The Navy ships honored the surrender and pulled up short.

“Inform Admiral Fenton he’s clear to send in his recovery ships,” Webb said. “Tell the rest of the taskforce to rejoin the formation and get ready to move on the planet.”

“Aye, sir,” Duncan said.

“I suppose that’s my cue,” Jacob said. “I’ll be heading down with Captain Santino.”

“Be careful,” Webb said. “Be quick as well.”

“We’ll get it done quick or not at all, sir,” Jacob assured him.

33

Stomori-3 was probably a nice enough planet. Jacob wouldn’t know because the Mud Dog APC he was bouncing around in didn’t have any windows.

The assault landers had at first been intercepted by planetary defense forces, but two warning shots from the orbiting destroyers had chased them off. While the Marines did their job, Admiral Webb was now communicating with the local government to begin the diplomatic process of smoothing things over not only with the Stomoris but the Epalauans. The latter were an arrogant, prickly people so that would be fun.

“Having fun, Captain?” Santino shouted.

“I’ve never actually ridden down from orbit in one of these!” Jacob shouted back. “It sucks!”

“You’re a Marine…you should love it!”

The landers finally got into some clean air, and the ride smoothed out the rest of the way to the drop. The APCs would go first before landers full of infantry came in behind them. They weren’t trying to be cute, just roll right in through the front gate and fight through whatever was waiting for them.

“Ten seconds!” Santino bellowed. “Brace for impact!”

The landers opened the deployment doors and released the clamps. Jacob’s stomach leapt into this throat as the heavy armored vehicle went into freefall before the repulsors fired and arrested their descent. The damned thing still slammed into the tarmac with enough force to blur his vision, but they were down and safe. The driver wasted no time engaging the drive and rolling them toward the compound while the guns and defensive systems came to life.

“Turret! Take the gate!” Santino ordered. Jacob could see the Marine captain was almost vibrating with excitement. This mission had seen two combat drops in as many weeks. Most of the time detachment duty meant months and months of living on a ship and trying to avoid work details.

The turret cannons on the two lead APCs fired. The shots slammed into a shimmering barrier that told them the compound, or at least the entrance, had active shielding. That was almost unheard of for ground-based security. Santino frowned.

“Keep firing! Full power!”

The cannons opened up again, this time firing repeatedly. The temperature inside the vehicle climbed as the cooling system for the weapons was taxed. The driver rolled to a stop as the gate shielding held. They were still at least a hundred meters from the entrance, and it showed no sign of failing.

“Strong shit,” Santino muttered before keying the com. “Blackout, Saber Actual. The gate and probably the walls have active shielding we can’t get through. Want to give me a hand?”

“Stay clear, Saber,” a voice came back. “Triton will unlock the door for you.”

“That’s why I love you, Blackout,” Santino said. “Saber, out.”

A moment later, the clouds lit up, and three massive plasma bolts slammed into the gate from the destroyer sitting above. Jacob whistled, realizing that was probably only thirty percent power from the ship’s cannons. Once the smoke and debris cleared, they saw the gate and most of the surrounding wall were missing. As was the roadbed.

“Moving,” the driver said.

The Mud Dog surged forward, and right when it looked like it would fall off the edge into the pit the Triton had just dug, the repulsors fired and the armored vehicle floated across to the other side where its wheels hit with a firm bump. The driver winked at Jacob and accelerated away from the area to make room for the others.

“Breach the door,” Santino said.

“Yes, sir,” the driver said.

As per the original plan, the lead APC surged forward and slammed into the reinforced doors. At the precise moment when there was maximum energy transfer between the vehicle and the building, a pneumatic ram fired automatically. The results were dramatic as the heavy alloy doors, along with the surrounding masonry work, were blasted inward, leaving a gaping hole. The driver quickly reversed back out of the hole and took up position with the other Mud Dogs coming through the gate.

The mechanical breach was more precise than using the cannons. The upside was if you didn’t know what was on the other side, it minimized damage. The downside was that if you didn’t know what was on the other side, you could end up getting hit with something nasty like an anti-armor warhead.

“Incoming small arms fire,” the gunner reported.

“All units, engage at will,” Santino ordered. There was a brief, nasty exchange where the more powerful cannons on the Mud Dogs ripped through the smattering of defenders in the entrance. The lack of firepower protecting the building worried Jacob. He had spotted some soft covers on the roof during the mission brief that could easily be hiding some bigger guns and being trapped in the vehicle was making him twitchy.

“No more targets,” the gunner said.

“Deploy!” Santino yelled. “Everyone out!”

The vehicle ramps dropped, and the Marines filed out quickly, taking up defensive positions and using the APCs for cover. Jacob and Tin Man had rode down in different vehicles so at least one of them would make it down if they started taking fire on the drop. It didn’t take him long to find his friend as he was the only one made of burnished alloy.

“Formidable gates,” Tin Man commented. “The defense of the building…less so.”

“I want to get up on that roof,” Jacob said. “They’re hiding something under those covers, and I don’t feel like the entire force being wiped out while we’re standing around in the yard.”

“I can get up there faster,” Tin Man said. “I could probably carry you.”

“I’ll shoot you if you try to carry me,” Jacob said before walking back to where Major Santino was getting ready to make entry.

“Tin Man and I are going to clear the rooftop, Captain.”

“Thermals didn’t indicate anything up there,” Santino said.

“Just a precaution,” Jacob said diplomatically. “I’m not here to interfere with your op.”

“Good luck. If you get in trouble, you may have to wait for us to get there.”

Jacob just smiled and waved to Tin Man. He secured his weapon across his back and took off at a run just as the battlesynth fired his repulsors to arc up onto the room. It was a three-story building, but the design meant that there were plenty of handholds and push-off points for Jacob to take advantage of.

No longer caring who saw him do what, he shoved off and leapt from the ground up to a ledge just above the first-story windows. He heard calls of disbelief behind him from the regular Fleet Marines as he leapt to grab the next and pull himself up before pushing off again, actually jumping up and away from the building this time to snag the lip of the roof and swing himself up over the edge.

“In the time it took you to climb the wall, I cleared the roof,” Tin Man said.

“Fuck off,” Jacob said, unhooking his weapon and looking around.

Below, he heard two of the Mud Dogs fire up and begin rolling forward, giving the advancing Marines cover over the short distance to the entry. Around him, he saw that the soft covers in the aerial imagery were actually open-sided tents. A quick inspection showed that it was a special material that would confuse sensors and dissipate thermal energy. Underneath each, as he’d assumed, were some ferocious automated weapons emplacements, ten in total.

“They outsmarted themselves,” Jacob said, moving up and shutting down one of the multi-barrel turrets. “These are anti-aircraft cannons. They put these in place to repel an assault they assumed would come from the air, and then added the gate shielding and walls to keep out any ground attack.”

“Shortsighted,” Tin Man said. “It is a strategy that leaves a lot of space in the middle to be exploited.”

“Let’s shut all these down, and then try to find the master power cutoff inside,” Jacob said. “It would be bad to have our landers shot down during evac.”

They went to each gun turret and shut them off with the manual, mechanical power disconnects so that there was no way for them to be re-initialized remotely. After that, they made entry through a rooftop door and worked their way into the building. The third floor looked to be administrative space. All the offices looked like they had been hastily abandoned. Computer terminals were still active and drinks on the desk were still warm to the touch.

“Interesting,” Jacob said.

They didn’t make contact with anyone as they cleared the entire third floor. When they moved to the second, it was much the same story. This floor was largely given over to storage and com equipment. There were large racks of gear that were still powered, including data servers. Jacob found the slip-com nodes for each and ripped the cables from the back, denying the enemy the ability to port in remotely and delete files.

Much like the third floor, the second looked as if it had been evacuated very suddenly. After making sure nobody was hiding in any closets, Jacob went back to the main service closet, ripped the locks off the security cage, and searched for the main power junction to the rooftop guns.

“It is this one,” Tin Man said, pointing at one on the right that looked like it had been added recently. The conduit coming up from the lower levels and passing on to the roof was nearly thirty centimeters in diameter. Jacob nodded, and Tin Man grabbed the yellow-handled lever and pulled it down until there was a sharp crack, and the status lights for the junction all winked out.

“Saber Actual, Blackheart,” he said into the com. “Rooftop guns disabled. Top two floors secured. No contact.”

“Copy, Blackheart,” Santino said. “There are pockets of resistance in the lower levels. Mostly local contractors who give up quickly. We’re heading toward an armored door in sub-section two.”

“On our way.”

“Blackheart, Icebreaker,” Webb’s voice came over the channel. “Confirm all surface-to-air defenses disabled.”

“Confirmed,” Jacob said. “Ten turrets, all manually disabled.”

“They are bringing the landers down,” Tin Man said. “Negotiations with the local government must have gone smoothly.”

“Or poorly and he’s just doing it anyway,” Jacob said. “Let’s get downstairs.”

If Jacob had to guess, he would say that the installation got word from one of the cruisers that Terran warships were inbound and to prepare to defend the compound. Instead, they hauled ass out of there as fast as they could, setting what defensive measures there were to automatic and saving their own skin. The only resistance they’d met so far were local contractors who probably didn’t know any better.

After making it all the way down to the sub-basement, Jacob realized that the lower levels extended out well past the footprint of the building above. The complex was truly massive and not new construction. He idly wondered what the building had been before the Synod took over.

“We’re almost in,” Santino said when Jacob walked up. “The door is blast-proof, but the lock is fairly outdated. Sergeant Bond should be slicing through the codes any second now.”

“I’m working as fast as I can, Major,” Bond said. “One mistake and it’ll lock me out.”

They stood around for another fifteen minutes before Bond made a loud sigh of relief and the locks on the massive door disengaged one at a time.

“I wonder what they stored in here before these assholes took over,” Santino wondered.

“Currency vault maybe,” Jacob said. “Doesn’t look purpose built for prisoners, and the building is too decorative to be for intelligence.”

The last lock retracted, and the door swung outward with the whine of straining actuators. As soon as it reached the halfway point, the fetid smell of unwashed bodies slammed into Jacob.

“Damn,” he said, taking a step back.

The lights inside were dim, but he could clearly make out rows and rows of cells that had been built inside the vault. They seemed to stretch on forever.

“Lieutenant Evers!” Santino barked. “I want four teams of five. First does a rough count. Give me the total number as quickly as possible. Next two teams will divide and conquer. Get me a roster, names only for right now. Third team secures this entrance. Everyone else…out! Back to the vehicles and form a defensive perimeter. Secure the gate and wait for further orders.”

The Marines quickly reorganized themselves and got to work. Jacob was impressed given that most of the Marines weren’t part of the Kentucky’s detachment but had come down from two of the cruisers.

“You need five people just to count heads?” Tin Man asked.

“You’ve worked with Marines,” Santino said. “What do you think?”

“Fair point.”

The final count was daunting. Two hundred and nine prisoners, not all of them human. Jacob had thought the project had just been limited to a few key players to gain access to the Ark but, apparently, they decided to keep a good thing going.

Many of the prisoners near the front begged to be let out and appeared to be gaunt, but not excessively so. Santino made the decision—the smart one, in Jacob’s opinion—to leave them in the cells for now until someone from the fleet let them know how they wanted to handle the removal.

Just letting them mill about loose in the yard seemed like a recipe for disaster. The individual teams collecting the names were able to update to a master list over the Battle Nexus, which let Jacob check on who they had captured. He saw that Fleet Admiral Nathan Grant was in one of the cells. So was…

“Oh, shit!”

“What?” Santino asked.

“I need cell…109 unlocked. Right now,” Jacob said.

“Wait a damn minute! We’re not just⁠—”

“That was not a request, Captain,” Tin Man said.

“Fucking Scout Fleet assholes,” Santino muttered, slapping Sergeant Bond on the arm. “Open 109.”

Jacob was already moving, building up to a full sprint despite knowing how dangerous that was in an enclosed space on a low-traction floor. He had reached the end of the 100 row and was trying to slow when the door to cell 109 started to slide open. He bailed out of the run, flipping and coming down on all fours facing backward, using his hands and feet to shed speed. It was a trick he learned years ago but only really worked when he was wearing gloves.

He stood up as a small figure came timidly to the opening, probably suspecting a trap.

“Jacob?” she asked. “Is…”

“It’s really me, Kellea,” Jacob said. “I’m here to get you out.”

Admiral Kellea Colleran, supreme commander for Home Sector of the Eshquarian Empire stumbled forward and hugged him. Kellea had been in a serious relationship for a time with Jason Burke and, despite her best efforts, still found herself pulled into their family business from time to time.

“How long have you been here?” Jacob asked.

“It’s difficult to say,” she said, regaining her composure. “They took me from Eshquaria Prime when I was on the surface for a meeting in the capital. It was after your father came aboard my ship for a refit and rearm of the Phoenix, and then we went back to home port. Did he know I was missing?” Her voice was so hopeful Jacob wished he could have told her that his dad had actively worked to save her, but he’d known Kellea since he was very young. He couldn’t lie to her.

“As far as I know, he doesn’t know you were swapped,” he said. “He’s loosely aware of the situation, but he seems to have his own troubles at the moment. You know him.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, looking up as a battlesynth walked toward them.

“Tin Man,” she greeted him.

“Admiral Colleran.” Tin Man nodded respectfully. “I am pleased beyond words that we were able to secure your release. Less so that you were captured in the first place.”

“You’re here, that’s the important thing.” Kellea smiled, sounding more like her old self.

The release of the prisoners was at first chaotic, but once Reggie came down and took over, it was quickly organized and whipped into shape. Local officials, likely embarrassed a trafficking operation was running in their backyard, went above and beyond making sure food, temporary shelters, and medical screenings were set up on the grounds while Navy and Marines sifted through the building cataloging and bundling everything to take up to the waiting ships.

Once Kellea was medically cleared and scanned to make sure she was really who she claimed to be, Admiral Webb sent a shuttle down and ordered Jacob and Tin Man to bring her back up to the Kentucky. He was already in contact with T’Cali Amon, letting him know that the officer in charge of their home system defense was an imposter.

Jacob let Santino know he was bailing out of the area of operation on him, got cussed out for being a piece of shit Scout Fleet slacker who only wanted to help with the fun stuff—which was actually a fair assessment—and then joined his friends in the waiting shuttle.

The ride back up to the Kentucky had a feel of finality about it. The job was done and most everyone had been saved. He imagined the job of apprehending and disposing of the imposters was going to be a huge pain in the ass.

But that would be someone else’s problem.

34

“I wish we had more time.”

“Me, too,” Jacob said, smiling sadly.

Special Agent Andrea Dubinski had arrived with the second group of Terran starships that flew out to Stomori-3 to assist on the cleanup and diplomatic fallout. These were consular and hospital ships far better suited for the number of people they were pulling out of the detention facility than the destroyers and cruisers Webb had brought.

When she had come over to the Kentucky on a shuttle, Jacob had been shocked to see her. His male ego assumed she flew all the way out because she was worried about him, but she quickly punctured that delusion by explaining the task the Ark had given her. Though she didn’t fully understand what it wanted, Jacob did…and he wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

Andrea had no idea what the Archive was. The Ark told her that Voq was a “second ark,” but that was wildly inaccurate. Voq was the entirety of Noxu knowledge. Their technical prowess, culture, art, history…all of it was locked away within its matrix. The Ark was an unknown. Jacob knew the basics of how it had evolved and grown on its own, but that didn’t mean he completely trusted it. Now, it wanted to directly interface with Voq. It had given Andrea the address of a dedicated hyperlink channel it wished to communicate with its progenitor through.

The potential risk was enormous, and he wouldn’t commit to anything without going over it with someone first. He couldn’t talk to Tin Man about it because the battlesynths of Lot 700 seemed to regard Voq as a sort of deity, for lack of a better term. A quasi-religion had emerged among them as they rode around on a starship with nothing to do but commune with the ancient AI.

In hindsight, that may have been a decision that would come back to bite them all in the ass. Jacob would need to speak to his father about the matter without Lucky or Tin Man listening in. Lucky’s matrix had been modified with parts of a different Noxu AI named Cas, and who could even guess what might be hidden in there waiting to emerge.

“There’s still a lot of work to do back home,” Andrea said, shaking Jacob out of his reverie. “I’m sure Admiral Webb would put you on temporary duty if you asked. Assigned to Homeworld Security, of course.”

“I wish I could, but I have a man out in the wild I can’t leave behind,” he said. “I’ll be in touch with regards to the…favor. There are barriers in place to accessing what it wants for a reason. Those guarding it may not agree to what the Ark wants.”

“I understand,” she said. “Take care of yourself, Captain.”

“You, too, Special Agent.”

Jacob walked up the ramp, his feet heavy and his heart tired after the mission he’d just been through. He’d love to go back to Mosler Station and take a break. But Murph was out there and in the clutches of Loen Pyx, no less. He knew that Captain May and the rest of Buzzkill were actively searching, but Murph was his responsibility.

When he told Webb of his intentions, the Admiral just nodded and told him he could go where he needed to go, but he couldn’t come home. At least not yet. He was apparently still not convinced that Olympus wouldn’t try to grab him.

As he was walking up the ship’s main corridor, he noticed the infirmary door was open. He stepped in, blinking as the lights came up. Michael Welford’s body was gone, and so was the smell it had produced. The infirmary was sparling clean and the bed had fresh linens and was ready for his next misadventure where he might be shot, stabbed, or blown up. He smiled and let out a self-satisfied sigh before heading up to the flightdeck.

“What are you so pleased with yourself about?” Tin Man asked.

“Did you see the infirmary?”

“Yes. Your indolence and tendency toward procrastination has paid off once again as some poor crewman had to clean up the mess you should have.”

“That’s a rather negative way to look at such a beautiful thing,” Jacob said.

“What is beautiful about it?” Tin Man asked.

“That it got done…but I didn’t have to do it.”

Tin Man turned and stared at him for a long moment.

“Your appearance is similar to Jason Burke’s, but you act remarkably like Crusher.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Jacob shrugged.

“Did you say goodbye to Admiral Colleran?” Tin Man asked.

“We had dinner last night,” Jacob said. “It’s weird that I feel like I know her when we’ve barely had any interaction before. Who knows, maybe dad will get his head out of his ass and work things out with her. We ready?”

“Fueled, provisioned, and re-armed,” Tin Man said. “I tried to get them to give us a ship-buster or two. They said no.”

“Won’t fit in the weapons bay?”

“They do not trust you with one.”

“Probably for the best. Okay…let’s go get Murph.”

“The other two will be angry you left them,” Tin Man said.

“I’m not flying all the way back to Koliss-2, and they have their hands full with the scanner project. They can just suck it up.”

Jacob deployed the taxi wheels and called for a tow over to the launch apron, then called Flight Ops to request a departure slot. The Kentucky was still supporting ground operations over Stomori-3 so all the hangar bay doors were already open as shuttles came and went at a steady clip. One of the deck handlers waved to them as the robotic tug clamped onto Boneshaker and dragged her over to the marked off area in front of the hangar bay opening.

Once the ship crossed the red line, he was cleared to begin his startup sequence. As soon as his maneuvering jets were online, he called for clearance and pushed the ship out through the opening, firing the jets to clear the area while the engines started.

He knew that Tin Man was screwing with him to try and keep his mind occupied, but it was a futile effort. Whenever he thought of Murph being helpless and in the clutches of Loen Pyx, his blood turned to ice. No matter how helpful she might have been with the scanner, she was still a psychopath who would dissect someone while they were still alive just to see what sort of sounds they’d make.

“He is going to be okay,” Tin Man said.

“I never pegged you as a blind optimist,” Jacob said as the main drive engaged and they climbed away from Stomori-3. “Or delusional.”

“Call it a hunch,” Tin Man said. “Murph is okay.”

“And if he isn’t?”

“Then, I will make sure Loen Pyx will regret the day she was brought into this universe.”

That sent a chill down Jacob’s spine even if he agreed with the sentiment.

Pitrico watched the remote footage from one of the assets he still had on Stomori-3. It wasn’t good.

The recording wasn’t the best since the contractor was quite far away and the optics were limited, but he could clearly make out a large-scale recovery operation taking place at the former detention facility. What’s worse was that it looked like the humans were carrying out boxes of equipment and documents. He’d tried to remote access the data servers, but something wasn’t working. He could connect to the slip-com nodes but nothing from there.

He had severely underestimated the humans. They had been running variations of the avatar program for many years, and nobody had ever been the wiser. They stumbled upon it when the Seeladas Dalton copy was damaged and, from there, they systematically dismantled the entire operation. Worse, it wasn’t even a coordinated effort. They had completely outmaneuvered him with a handful of people. How was that even possible?

Pitrico had been an important person. His avatars had control of militaries, commerce, governments…he was an indispensable part of the Synod’s plans for the quadrant. Now, every single bit of that was gone, and the only thing he could do was make sure his contractors on Stomori-3 tracked down and killed every last one of the cowards who had fled the detention facility without at least triggering the failsafes that would wipe the servers and kill the prisoners.

The amount of information the humans would be able to pull from that facility was significant considering Pitrico had been storing documents relating to the Synod that he really had no business even having. It was always good to have leverage, but only if it remained a secret.

“They are ready, sir,” his Miressan aide said softly.

“Very well,” Pitrico said. He walked into the room with his head held high and his back straight.

The chamber on the ship that had hyperlink access was dimly lit and cold. It was only used to contact the Synod or their representatives so he imagined they liked to keep it so uncomfortable on purpose.

“Your failures are many,” one of the figures shrouded in shadow said. “It is almost impressive how far you have set us back. You…a single Miressan.”

“I make no excuses for my actions,” Pitrico said clearly. He would not grovel for his life or beg for forgiveness. “I am ready for judgment.”

“So eager to die, are you?” another asked.

“I simply see no point in refuting the facts as you already know them.”

“Strangely enough, even in the midst of your colossal failure, I still find merit in your willingness to take responsibility,” another said. “Facing judgment without fear is an admirable trait.”

Pitrico said nothing. This appeared to be the full Synod so there was little doubt that his fate had already been decided and they were simply wanting to watch him be executed. Who would do it? His own aide? That seemed like something they would do.

“Our judgment has been decided,” the first said. “You will not be executed. Nor will you be imprisoned. At least not yet. While your actions here are inexcusable, we are offering a stay of execution. A chance to redeem yourself and show that we did not make a mistake when recognizing your talents in the first place.”

“What task am I to be set to?” Pitrico asked.

“The human augments have hampered our efforts long enough,” the second said. “Kill them. Kill them both.”

“Is there a preferred manner in which they should die?” Pitrico wasn’t expecting this. The Synod were not known for mercy or second chances.

“Kill the son, then the father. Make sure he knows why his offspring died, then put him out of his misery.”

“Yes,” the third said angrily. “Jacob Brown must die.”

“Your will shall be done.”

EPILOGUE

“Fine calibrations complete. Neural feedback rate…nominal. Network attenuation…nominal.”

“Very good, very good,” Loen Pyx murmured to herself, watching the stream of data that told her the latest experiment was a success. “Proceed with full integration.”

“Ungh,” the subject grunted but was otherwise still.

“Pain level?” Loen asked.

“Piss off,” the subject whispered.

“We’ll just say moderate,” Loen said cheerfully. “If it was high, you wouldn’t be speaking at all. Now, be still…we’re almost done.”

She watched as the computer finished building the calibration tables and uploading them to the control matrix. Loen had high hopes that this would be successful on the first attempt. The potential applications for such a breakthrough were limitless if she could find the right partner.

The computer finished its work, and Loen read over the final report before giving the final initialization command. Satisfied everything was in order, she fully activated the system and disengaged the restraints. She stepped back and waited.

“Okay, Agent Murphy,” she said. “The rest is up to you.”

“It’s just Murph.”

Alonso Murphy lay face down on the surgical table, his back a raw mess of inflamed tissue from the invasive procedure. His legs twitched, then he flexed his feet and wiggled his toes.

“So far, so good,” he said.

“There should be no limitations,” Loen said.

Murph gingerly swung his left leg over the side, and then pushed himself up with his arm, wincing as the skin on his back flexed. He then put his right foot down and straightened, easily bearing his own weight and balancing on his feet for the first time since he’d been shot. He turned gracefully to face her, tears in his eyes.

“It works,” he said simply.

“That it does, Murph,” Loen said with a smile. “A fully integrated cybernetic replacement for the spinal column. The first of its kind. I’m cooking up a batch of medical nanites that will repair the tissue of your back. I’m afraid the standard type would attack the interface as a foreign object. Once we finish our test cycle, I’ll upload the exceptions to your neural implant so that it will be able to tell any new nanites what is off limits.”

Murph walked around the lab, hopping experimentally and holding one leg out, then the other.

“Other than just feeling weak, I can’t even tell the difference,” he said.

“You have full functionality restored,” she said.

“Not to sound like an ungrateful prick, but what is this going to cost me?” Murph asked. “No offense, but you’re not widely known for your charity.”

“Besides the fact that I will make a fortune selling this technology?” Loen asked. “I’m getting you back into the fight. And yes…it is more than a little self-serving.”

“Explain.”

“The Synod have tried to kill me twice that I know of. I don’t have a lot of faith that the major powers will even try to stop them before it’s too late and they’re too strong. Yet, for some reason, I have faith in humanity. Between my experience with Carolyn Whitney and learning to not underestimate Jacob Brown, I think that your people may surprise the Synod.”

“You’re telling me you did this just so I could go help Jake?” Murph asked, clearly skeptical.

“Don’t overestimate the value of pure research on a living subject,” Loen said. “The odds were good that my creation could have fried your brain during the integration process.”

“There’s the Loen we all know and love.” Murph nodded. “So, I’m free to go?”

“That depends,” Loen said, smiling mysteriously. “You could rejoin your people and be as you were. Or I could make you…better.”

Murph at first looked horrified, then speculative. He took a long moment before answering.

“What else you got?”

Thank you for reading Ghosts.

If you enjoyed the story, Captain Brown and the guys will be back in:

The Last Dance

Terran Scout Fleet, Book 8.

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