part0016

Graves dozed in the cavernous cargo bay of the logistics transport aircraft. He could have taken the diplomatic aircar back to the UN—a much nicer ride, to be sure—but he’d begged off. He’d had enough of policy meetings and diplomatic negotiations and the people who went along with those functions. Though he didn’t doubt their necessity, he did doubt his own ability to actually make a difference in the meetings.

Instead, he focused on making the trains run on time. A few hours ago, this transport had been packed to the ceiling with food, tankers of water, tents, and educational supplies for local schools. Graves had been able to witness aid getting to where it made a difference. When he closed his eyes, he could still smell the dust of the Nigerian aid station in the air.

The drone of the big transport’s engines translated into a steady, comforting vibration under his backside. He dozed.

Graves opened his eyes to find Sergeant Estes crouched next to his seat, the light from above angling down so his face was in shadow. Graves felt a pang of regret as he wondered where in the universe Captain Jansen was now. Wherever it was, he just hoped she was safe.

“She was the best, Estes. The very best…” Graves unsnapped the harness and stood. “What’ve you got for me?”

Estes’s expression was troubled. “I’m not sure, sir, but Ortega contacted me via private comms that there’s trouble at home.”

“He doesn’t know, sir. A squad of MPs showed up and told the base commander they were there to take Santos. He let them … and all hell broke loose.”

“Get me Maxwell on the horn. Right now.” Graves clenched his eyes shut in frustration. After the LUNa City fiasco, the best course of action was to negotiate with the Neos, not attack them. They all had enough on their plates without adding another crisis.

“That’s the problem, sir. I can’t raise them. That’s why Ortega contacted me by private comms.”

Graves stared at him. “It’s an army base, Sergeant. What do you mean you can’t raise them?”

“I mean they’re not online, sir. Ortega thinks the fugees—sorry, sir, the refugees—might have done something—”

The familiar swelter of the Texas summer did nothing to ease Graves’s mind as he strode down the ramp of the transport ship to the waiting aircar. Inside, Ortega sat with Colonel Maxwell, the base commander, a barrel-chested soldier whose pale, aquiline features were a marked contrast to Ortega. Neither looked eager to brief Graves.

“A squad of MPs were sent from Washington to pick up Corazon Santos. They arrested a woman who claimed to be her, but it wasn’t. While that was going on, the Neos took the command building,” Maxwell said. “Commando style. Neat as could be. Just overwhelmed us in one move. They’re pros.” His voice had a measure of respect.

“They have them inside. The place is locked down with some sort of EM shield. Drones don’t work and any attacks have been rebuffed. She’s got hundreds of civilians in there—theirs and ours. I’m afraid if we go in hard, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

Graves thought about taking a stim and rejected the idea. What he needed now was a clear head.

“They’re here, but we’re keeping them off base for national security reasons. The rep from the White House is here, though.”

“We have an assault plan ready for you to approve, sir.” Maxwell went on to describe a classic feint maneuver. Launch an open, noisy assault from the south while a small team entered the complex from the maintenance tunnels underneath the base.

The aircar stopped at the temporary ops center set up in a hangar a half mile from the perimeter of the base command building. Graves put his game face on before he entered the space. These people needed a confidence boost, not a show of anger. Hell, he needed a confidence boost. Graves had the distinct impression that the Neos knew exactly what they were doing and he was the one playing defense.

The holographic display of the base was on the tabletop. Graves looked around the room, realizing he was operating with all new people. The regular command center team were all in the building taken by the Neos. These replacements might be good, but they’d never operated as a team before today. Meanwhile, the Neos had control of his resources and a plan they’d been working on for who knew how long.

“We’re being jammed on all frequencies, sir,” Maxwell was saying. “Drones are useless, so—”

“So we’re going in blind,” Graves finished for him. “How many of our people are in there?”

Maxwell nodded at a young lieutenant. “On a typical day, we’ll have about two hundred people in the building, a mix of civilian and military. Because of the jamming device, we can’t access their implants for an exact census. There’s something else. Visuals show us these boxes are in the windows.” She passed Graves a tablet with a blown-up picture of an office window and a box sitting on a windowsill.

He studied the picture, then zoomed out, looking for more of the boxes. He found them right where he expected to find them. “Son of a bitch,” he said. He passed the tablet to Maxwell. “You never had combat engineer training, did you?”

“They’re explosives,” Graves said. “Set on all the structural points of the building. If we attack, they blow it.”

“Maybe they’re not,” Graves snapped back. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

A familiar voice came from behind Graves, confidence laced with the slightest sneer. “We need to contain this situation, General Graves. You know they’re bluffing, and we can’t let a few pissant refugees take over a US Army base.” Helena Telemachus stepped into the ring of people around the tabletop holo. “It’s bad for your image.”

Graves knew she was trying to provoke him, and it was working. “Clear the room,” he barked, his eyes never leaving H’s gaze. “Now.”

“Why?” he said when they were alone. “Why did you try to arrest her? She’s done nothing to us.”

“Wrong,” H shot back. “The Neos took LUNa City. What’s next? The White House? The UN? An army base?” She stabbed a finger at the holo of the command building. “A third of the world’s population are Neos. Today it’s an army base. What happens when they start taking over cities? This Corazon woman knows something. We use her as a bargaining chip. Figure it out and shut this attack down.” She leaned in closer. “Or I will.”

Graves stormed out of the command center and found Maxwell. “I need to talk to your prisoner. The one they thought was Santos,” he said to Maxwell, who led him quickly to an office door at the end of the hall guarded by a young airman.

The woman behind the desk had Cora’s long silver hair, luminous skin, and upright posture, but it was not her. Graves sighed and took the chair across from her. The woman smiled pleasantly.

“Valeria,” she said. “She wants you to know she had nothing to do with the LUNa City takeover.”

The woman—Valeria—had another trait in common with Cora, Graves realized. She was cool under pressure, as if this interaction was insignificant against her larger mission. A true believer.

Valeria’s look reprimanded him. “This is not a game to us, General. We took an oath to Cassandra. It is how we live our lives.”

Graves rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. He could use that stim now. “What does she want?”

Valeria smiled again. “You should ask her yourself, William. She’s waiting for you.”