Korolev picked his people well. Initially Katja had wondered at his choice of Jack Mallory for Special Forces, but she saw now that the kid was far more than just really smart. He was strong, in ways she’d never imagined him to be. In ways she’d never been herself. He deserved a future, and she would do everything in her power to give him one.
Her gear was packed and rested by the front door. Small weapons were distributed over her body beneath her loose-fitting clothing. Everything was coming together as usual for another mission, but over the thunderous beating of her heart she knew it was all just a cover for her real purpose.
Jack crossed the living room toward her, hefting his own backpack. He glanced at her, but offered none of his usual smiles or good humor. His young face was surprisingly devoid of any emotion—almost as if he had slipped on his war face early. He set the pack down next to hers and cast his eyes around the apartment.
“I have everything of mine,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Her heart ached to see him so withdrawn. Her seduction attempt had backfired in ways she truly hadn’t expected. She’d been ready for awkwardness between them the next morning, no matter how it had played out, but Jack’s cold distance was unsettling.
Not that she didn’t deserve it. Her actions had been a cold-blooded attempt to distract him—and herself, honestly—from the powerful truth about their mission. A truth they both knew in their hearts, but which only he had the courage to face. His surprising strength hadn’t just deflected her manipulation. It had also, finally, made her face reality.
Looking up at him now, as he diligently avoided her gaze to check the straps on his pack and confirm the contents of his pockets, she wept within at the trap they found themselves in as operatives. She wanted to tell him—wanted him to understand that she saw the truth of his words. He was right, about everything, and she had decided to act for what was right.
She couldn’t tell him—couldn’t even hint at it. Because he had to go back to Terra and report to Korolev on what happened. He had to believe, for his own safety.
He finally noticed her hesitation and looked down at her.
“What is it?”
“Slight change of plan, for me anyway.”
“Oh?” He froze in place, tensing as his eyes searched hers.
“I’ve been thinking about our disruptor pods in the Pierce Building. Given the ruckus that occurred there, we don’t even know if they’re still in place, and even if they are, we don’t know how long they’ll be effective before Centauri cyberguards find them and shut them down.” She crossed her arms, giving him her fiercest stare. “Disrupting the enemy security network is much too important for the mission to leave in the hands of remote machines. I’m going to go there in person and make sure it happens. Thomas and everyone else in orbit is counting on it.”
Jack couldn’t hold her angry gaze. He looked away, taking a deep, thoughtful breath. Then he turned back.
“How are you going to get to the escape point?” he asked. “It’s more than a hundred kilometers outside the city. I might be able to fly in and pick you up somewhere close, but—”
“That’s too risky,” she said. “You stick to the original plan, and get yourself off-planet. Don’t worry about me.”
“But, Katja…” he said slowly, “if this attack succeeds, there won’t be any second escape route.”
“I know.” Her heartbeat was pounding in her skull, but she kept her face stern. “I’m a servant of the State, and I will do my duty.”
It was exactly what she’d be expected to say. By Jack’s expression she knew he wasn’t surprised, nor would Korolev be when Jack reported back. It was bullshit, but she had to make Jack believe it just one more time.
“This mission,” she added, “is too important to leave with such a variable still in play.”
He made to speak, but stopped himself, mind clearly racing through possibilities. Then he glanced over their gear, as if some new solution would suddenly present itself.
“You can’t throw your life away,” he said finally.
“I’m already dead, Jack.” At another time her statement might have been a joke, but as she spoke she realized that truer words had never passed her lips. “I’ve been dead for a long time.”
“Katja…” His face melted into compassion. After a moment’s hesitation he dared to reach out and grip her arms. “Don’t do this.”
She knew she should shrug off his touch with a show of anger, but his strong hands felt too good against her, and she couldn’t find the will.
“The mission,” she said, “is too important. It’s my duty to ensure that it succeeds.”
His eyes shut tight as he fought back emotion. Finally he nodded in understanding.
“Then I guess,” he said, “I’m coming with you.”
Oh shit, shit, shit. No, that wasn’t part of the plan. Her mind raced. “Not a chance, Jack,” she snapped. “You’d just slow me down, and there’s no need for both of us to be sacrificed.”
“How could I abandon you to this?” he asked, eyes opening to reveal glistening moisture. “After everything…” His voice trailed off as he grasped for words. “You know, everything.”
He really wasn’t making this easy. She fought down the emotion welling up within her, forcing herself to become the operative once again. “You’re still valuable,” she said coldly. “Terra will need you in the future that’s coming. You have to survive.”
“And what about you?”
“I will do my duty… to Terra. I need you to honor that, and make sure my actions aren’t in vain.”
His hands dropped away from her. He stared at her in sad disbelief.
“I can’t help but admire you,” he said, “but I’ll never understand you.”
And you will never, she prayed to herself, become like me.
“You know I’m right,” she said.
“Yeah, and now I just hate this mission even more.”
“Get yourself to safety, and make sure that bastard Kane gets to safety, as well.”
He tried to laugh, but it died in his throat and he looked away sharply, wiping his eyes. Without another word he grabbed his backpack, and opened the apartment door. Katja took up her gear and followed him out.
They’d already selected a vehicle for their actions today. The big car was owned by an elderly couple in the building who used it only once a week, regular as clockwork, and certainly wouldn’t miss it for the next few hours. Jack reached into the Cloud, opened the locks, hijacked the ID system, and disabled the navigation even before he’d placed his pack in the car’s storage compartment. He moved with such casual efficiency—both physically and in the Cloud—that she could only shake her head.
“So am I giving you a lift to the Pierce Building?” he asked as they climbed in.
“If you could drop me a couple of blocks away, that’d be great. I’ll walk from there.” The banality of their exchange belied the simmering tension she felt, but at least Jack wasn’t arguing anymore. He pulled out onto the street without further comment. She welcomed the silence, even if she hated what he must think of her. His feelings might very well save his life.
A short time later he pulled over on a quiet side street, exactly two blocks from her target. A scattering of pedestrians moved past on the walkway, but no one seemed to notice a car parking alongside the others. She unstrapped and turned to him.
After a moment he turned to her.
“It’s ninety-five minutes to H-hour,” he said. “I’ll be airborne by twenty. If things are going well here, and you want a pickup, you just let me know.”
It was a noble gesture, and just like him to offer. She half climbed out of her seat, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around him tightly. He didn’t hesitate in returning the hug, squeezing her close. She let herself bask in the embrace for longer than she’d intended, suddenly not wanting to let go.
The first time she’d said goodbye to her life had been easy. This time, not so much. She pressed her cheek against his and gave him a long, slow kiss on the jawline.
“Goodbye, Jack.”
He didn’t answer, other than to hold her tight for another long moment. Then, reluctantly, she pulled herself free and exited the car, not looking back.
* * *
Thomas sat in his command chair, listening to the professional murmur around him on the bridge as he watched the red symbols drift near the visible disk of Abeona, low on the bow. The blue symbol of Singapore was high to port, slowly drawing left as Moore overtook her.
The two ships moved on slightly different courses and at different speeds. No doubt they both were being tracked by Abeona Traffic Control, although they were still too far out to have been challenged. Orbital contact density increased up ahead, which would be very helpful in the coming hour. Thomas glanced at the clock.
Seventy minutes to H-hour.
Next to him the officer of the watch, Lieutenant Overvelde, completed his checklist to bring the ship to battle stations. Thomas heard the voice of the XO through the local speaker, reporting the disposition of the damage control system. Overvelde acknowledged, then glanced up.
“Captain, sir, officer of the watch,” he declared. “Ship is at battle stations.”
“Very good,” Thomas replied. The bridge was fully manned around him, all personnel in their emergency spacesuits with helmets strapped to their belts. Each warfare area was ready for the action to come.
Abeona grew larger up ahead, and Thomas remembered only too well the last time he’d done battle here. He cast his eyes over the bridge crew, wondering how good the AAW and AVW directors really were. He needed them to keep his ship in one piece long enough for the final maneuver, but he also needed them to be distracted enough to not see what was really going on.
Over in ASW, John Micah paced as he watched his displays.
Chen and Hayley were secured to the deck in front of him. Hayley was second officer of the watch, but Thomas had designated Chen as “officer at large” for this battle. He had explained to the XO that he wanted a trusted set of eyes and ears at his disposal, but since all the lieutenants already maintained official positions, it would have to be a subbie. The XO had not argued.
“Sublieutenant Wi,” he said. Chen unhooked from Hayley’s station and floated over, gripping the command chair armrest and leaning close.
“Check in with Shades,” he murmured, too quiet for Overvelde to hear on his other side. “Confirm which tube he wants to designate, and then get down there to load up.”
“Yes, sir.” Moisture beaded on Chen’s young face. “Do you want me to come back to the bridge afterward?”
“No. Stay there in person and guard it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good luck, Chen. I’m counting on you.”
The subbie pushed away carefully and moved across the bridge to John’s position. Thomas watched them exchange quiet words before Chen maneuvered back to the command chair.
“Captain, sir,” he said to Thomas across Overvelde. “ASW reports a possible malfunction in the port-side forward countermeasures battery. Shall I get a maintenance crew down there?”
“No,” Thomas replied. “This close to combat I want them to stay at their stations. Get down there yourself, Sublieutenant Wi, and have a look—see if it just needs a reboot. If not then report to the XO and then we can detach techs.”
Overvelde nodded in acknowledgement as Chen accepted the order and moved off. As officer of the watch, Overvelde was responsible for the overall running of the ship and was the person most likely to notice what Chen was really up to. He’d proven himself far too competent for Thomas to think he’d miss the impending changes to the port-side forward countermeasures battery.
Chen used his anchor line to glide aft to the bridge doors. Thomas watched him go, then glanced over at John. The ASW director met his gaze, nodding once.
Thomas sat back in his command chair, scanning his display and then gazing out at the view projected all around him. The lights of other craft were becoming visible, moving against the starry backdrop, and Abeona loomed ahead.
* * *
Katja crawled along the ventilation duct, moving slowly enough to minimize the potential for the metal to shift under her weight, but knowing that she worked against the most important deadline in human history.
It had taken longer than she hoped to get past the security systems, and a quick glance at her watch reported less than thirty minutes to H-hour. She’d had to tackle the quantum-flux field by herself, but a clever manipulation had left the sensors on bare minimum power—not actually disabled, since that would have tripped the status alarms. They were too weak, however, to detect her movements amid all the airflow of the ventilation.
A careful observer would probably still spot her, but she doubted there were any humans involved in this sort of security. Sometimes the Centauris trusted their machines too much.
She’d already checked one of the disruptor pods—it was still in place—and she’d hoped to verify at least one more before activating them. But she was running out of time, and if one disruptor was still ready, then they all were. No, she had to get herself in place.
Pulling up into a sitting position at a junction of ducts, she reached out, scanning quickly for any active detectors. There was nothing unusual, and with a single micro-burst she transmitted the activation command. Four automated acknowledgements came back, but otherwise she detected no changes.
The disruptors were designed to be subtle, slowly building their interference in a way that would degrade, but not destroy, the enemy’s tactical picture. It would take at least fifteen minutes for the degradation to really kick in, and she could only guess at how long it would be before the Centauris figured out the problem and corrected it.
The first part of her mission complete, she braced herself against the sides of the duct and lowered herself down a level. The orbital network stations were no longer of any interest to her—her next prize was even deeper. Reaching out again, stilling her mind and really listening, she could just make out the tell-tale signal of Centauri agents.
* * *
The ship was being hailed by Abeona Traffic Control, and the tension level on the bridge rose significantly, but silence surrounded them.
Overvelde responded with his best Centauri accent, indicating that Moore was the private courier ship Bear Seven en route to Starfall. Such vessels often failed to log flight plans between worlds, having little interest in being formally tracked in their daily business, but it wouldn’t take Traffic long to figure out that there was no such vessel registered to any courier company.
Not that it really mattered, Thomas thought, glancing at the clock again. Twenty minutes to H-hour. All he had to do was keep the Centauris busy for a little while longer.
An alert ignited on the status board between him and Overvelde. The officer of the watch noted the warning lights, which connected to the port-side forward countermeasures battery.
“Looks like something’s really wrong down there, sir,” he said. “I’ll get the XO to send a team.”
“Just wait,” Thomas said quickly. “It’s probably Chen rebooting the system. I don’t want DCC distracted right now.”
“But, sir, the countermeasures—”
“And I don’t want you distracted, either,” Thomas snapped.
“Transfer system status to your second officer of the watch—I need you focused on driving this ship into battle, Mr. Overvelde.”
“Yes, sir.” Overvelde dutifully manipulated his console and simplified the display so that only ship movement and tactical information were displayed.
“I have control of system status,” Hayley called from her station just forward.
Thomas looked at Overvelde, and got a determined nod in return.
Singapore had fallen astern, maintaining her plodding course toward the launch point. She would likely be hailed any moment, as well—it was time for Moore to smack the hornet’s nest.
“Officer of the watch,” he declared, “increase to attack speed.”
* * *
Above her there was a sudden flurry of activity. Secondary network nodes activated as additional security stations flashed to life. Comms traffic exploded outward, and Katja recognized the machine responses from Abeona’s scattered array of surface weapons.
Thomas had made his move.
Her disruptors were already confusing the tactical picture—she just hoped they would do so enough to give his ship the edge.
Below her, she sensed new chatter from the Centauri agents. She’d identified at least four separate individuals, even if she couldn’t make out their messages. Three of them were in a single, large compartment less than two hundred meters away from her, and the fourth was rapidly closing that location. From the amount of encrypted data that was sizzling through, she suspected the compartment was a central control station. Special Forces had plenty of similar setups.
She increased her pace through the vents, figuring all eyes were looking spaceward, and she doubted the quantum-flux sensors would highlight her movement amid all the commotion.
More alarms sounded, both above and below her. She ripped off her jacket, abandoning it behind her and slipping down another tube, and smiled to herself at just how many people Thomas was frightening right now. She could feel the surprise, in some cases bordering on panic, as the defenses tried to make sense of what they were seeing in orbit.
Her feet slammed down on the metal trunking, her smile broadened as she scrambled forward along the vent.
He really could be a bastard.
Then behind her, she heard another slam against the metal, couched in a hiss of tapping feet. Spinning around, she gasped as the awful length of a milly revealed itself down the tube she herself had used. It scanned the vents and locked onto her, scuttling forward even as its body continued to descend from above.
Snapping a grenade from her belt, she threw it back at the beast and launched herself into motion. The explosion thundered through the venting, a wall of air knocking against her as she scrambled away. The clatter of mechanical feet resumed behind her, and she didn’t even spare a glance to confirm that the milly was still in pursuit. Reaching another vertical intersection she dropped down the tube, her body crashing against the next trunking below.
She released another grenade in her wake as she moved on all fours, toppling into a forward roll as the blast impacted her and rattled the entire tunnel. Leaping into a crouch she looked back, saw the milly slithering past the wreckage toward her. They were in a long, straight vent now, with nowhere to hide.
Drawing both of her pistols, she unleashed a hail of bullets. Sparks flew off the nose of the robot as it raced toward her, forward claws extending. Both of her pistols clicked empty. She tucked into a ball and held them up as shields.
Abruptly the milly collapsed, going limp as all power fled its body. It slid to a halt, unmoving.
Katja stared in shock, dimly aware of her hands going through the motions of reloading her pistols.
<You didn’t really think I’d abandon you?>
Jack!
<Where the fuck are you?> she asked.
<Airborne, en route to your position—get outside anywhere and I can pick you up.>
<There’s no time! If you don’t head for space right now you’ll never clear before H-hour.>
<Impossible odds haven’t stopped us before—they won’t stop us now.>
No… That heroic jerk was ruining everything. Why couldn’t he just understand that she didn’t want to be rescued? Against the thumping heartbeat in her chest, Katja reached up and felt for where she knew her entangled particle device was. Jack was never going to stop this fool’s errand, so long as he thought she was still alive.
She pulled up her shirt and quickly felt for the tiny incision scar. There. Her knife was in her hand and without allowing herself to think she dug the point of the blade into her chest, just under her right breast. Grunting through the searing pain, she probed with the knife between her ribs.
<I’m not going to make it,> she said. <There’s too many of them.>
<I see you as clear.>
<No—there are agents on either side of me.>
<Where?>
<Right here—they must be cloaked.>
As he no doubt burned through the various sensors in the Pierce Building, she felt her knife click against the tiny capsule attached to the top of her rib. With a sharp twist she cut it free, then reached in with her fingers, past the torrent of blood, to pull it out of the hot gash she’d made in herself.
<I’m not going to make it,> she said as she put the capsule on the metal by her feet and pointed her pistol at it. <Get out of here, Jack.> She pulled the trigger, obliterating the capsule and sending a clear signal of trauma. She just heard Jack’s cry in the Cloud before she shut down all of her implants.
Tears streamed down her face as she ripped open her medikit and sprayed her wound before pressing a bandage against it. She sat back against the wall of the vent, gasping for breath and waiting as the blood trickled hot down her stomach and the cocktail fought to seal the breach. Her head spun with the pain, but pain was like an old colleague, and she weathered it stoically.
Finally, she blinked open her eyes, clearing her vision. Her mission wasn’t over yet, but now she had to proceed without using her implants. No one—least of all Jack—could ever know what she was going to do next.