part0021

No matter how hard Meyers stared at the displays on the Operations Center walls, the details from the Condor’s surveillance never improved. Everything—the cargo cases, his armor, the walls—was washed a dull, blue-gray from the displays’ output. The silence inside the structure was broken by boots scraping on sand as someone entered, carrying in their wake a bit of the chilly wind blowing through the camp. Meyers imagined the air was just a little bit cleaner as a result. He wanted to walk in that wind, to let it cool him and carry away his guilt and confusion.

“Find what you’re looking for, Colonel?” Paxton’s tone was calm, neutral, absent any hint of judgment.

“Not yet.” Meyers wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Forgiveness? Justification? Understanding?

He blew out air that smelled like death, and then he blinked and stared harder. Enhanced with overlays from Perkins’s sniper scope and McNutt, Gerhardt, and Zacharowski’s feeds, they had a more accurate three-dimensional model of the compound, but it wasn’t worth the loss of a soldier.

Meyers wondered how Rimes had managed to stay sane after losing so many during the Metacorporate War. Some would have argued he hadn’t stayed sane, but Meyers now understood the sort of pain that must have driven Rimes. He’d been sane. In retrospect, his decisions had been the only sane solution possible.

“How’s Gerhardt?” Meyers didn’t turn from the display.

“Pissed off. Had a little incident. We came to an understanding.”

Meyers knew better than to ask for details. “They’re definitely in with Waverley.”

“SunCorps? You really thought they’d just give up the most powerful man in the…?” Paxton snorted. “Whatever we are now.”

“I thought the Special Security Council—”

“Ah, hell, Colonel. It’s all they can do not to piss themselves talking to SunCorps. No one wants another war. Talk big all you want, but we’re all they got, and we got the shit kicked out of us last time around. Weren’t for greed and turning on each other, they could’ve wiped us out.”

Meyers finally turned from the displays. “We were wearing them down.”

“Can’t wear down a metacorporation. They went months surviving on nothing but sales to the colonies and each other before they attacked. They gave up billions in revenue, all to punish Earth economically. Because they could. Sure, they lost twenty, thirty people for every one of us they killed, but they could afford to.” Paxton sighed and sidled up to the display. “You’re a smart man, sir. Educated. You already knew all that. Just like you knew you’d lose people on this mission.”

Casualties are a part of war. Meyers had told himself that too many times to count. It was something he’d learned long ago, when he was just an infantry private fresh out of training.

Paxton flicked a glance at Meyers. “You just got to accept it.”

Meyers walked to the opposite wall. Slow. Deliberate.

Paxton turned and said, “Gun emplacements that don’t open fire. Explosives stuffed in with a bunch of vehicles. Sloppy security, sir.”

“Very.” Meyers rubbed his hands together, now cold. “You can be sloppy with…”

“Superiority, yeah. So, you think this was just arrogance?”

“No.” Looking back on it, the gun placement seemed more a matter of tight focus. Or bad planning. “I think they’ve got their priorities: protect their yacht and their fleet of makeshift assault craft. But there’s more to it. There has to be.”

“Maybe we weren’t what they were looking for.”

“You think they were watching for Zombies?”

Paxton tapped his nose. “And things like that.”

Meyers returned to the display and pulled the view back. The gun emplacements covered the west and south. Nothing to the north or east. The shed held the proxy, and it had somehow been triggered by Zacharowski’s approach or presence. Or maybe McNutt or Gerhardt’s actions. Gerhardt had actually touched the camouflage netting. He’d been in close to the gun emplacements.

“So, limited resources, just those two machine guns, perimeter sensors that give them a look over a small arc and distance, probably a limited set of parameters—motion. Big motion. Numbers, people standing upright.” Meyers rubbed his thumbs against his forefingers. “Those are rebuilt flyers, probably reclaimed from junk heaps. I’m surprised they had so many in a place like Turning Point.”

“Who said they’re from Turning Point?”

Meyers thought about that for a moment. “Okay, so maybe somewhere else on-planet. That’s still a lot of flyers for a population of, what, a hundred thousand? But the guns, those had to come from off-world.”

“Same as the guns Reyes has on his haulers.”

Meyers tried to remember how far back Beniam said Reyes had gotten the guns. It sounded like about the same time frame as Waverley becoming a fugitive. “Okay. Gun shipments come to Bellar ahead of Waverley’s arrival. He packs the yacht full of twenty to thirty security and support people and that proxy. That leaves room for food, ammunition, weapons, and gear. Not a lot more than that. Not for someone who’s used to a life of luxury.”

“Want me to get Agent Barlowe and Private Starling?”

“Let them sleep. They need it. And we’ll need them. Bring McNutt and Banh in.”

“Not Corporal Gerhardt?”

“We can’t risk leaving the camp unprotected.”

Paxton turned his head to look at Meyers. “You got something in mind already?”

“I don’t think waiting works to our advantage. It’ll make it feel like we failed, and we’re afraid.” Meyers watched Paxton for a reaction. The leathery face was still, almost impossible to read, but there seemed to be the slightest hint of approval in his eyes.

Paxton looked away. “Corporal McNutt, Sergeant Banh, report to the Operations Center. Sergeant Banh, have Corporal Gerhardt’s squad replace yours on perimeter.” Paxton turned his attention back to the display. “They’re on their way, sir.”

“You’re not sold on acting right now?”

“I guess I’m concerned about not knowing enough about the enemy.”

“I’m not talking about an assault.”

“You think a sustained assault would win through, sir? If we did go that way.”

“Well, if we had something that could take down that proxy and keep those flyers off of us, sure. We could flank way around to the east, get up on the north side, send the bulk of the force in from there, where they don’t have any defenses, keep a modest-sized group in the woods to the south where we were last night. Yeah. But we don’t have anything that can handle that proxy. Not until we get the Javelins operational again.”

Paxton cocked an eyebrow curiously.

“Barlowe said he can get our BAS rebuilds done quicker, and that’s a couple days out.”

“You sure we’re compromised, Colonel?”

Meyers thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, we’re compromised. We have to be. Waverley’s team didn’t pick up on the BAS because Zacharowski and the others were in passive mode. If Waverley could pick up our location, I don’t think I’d be here right now. They would’ve come at us with the flyers while we were in the woods or on the drive back.”

“So they aren’t two steps ahead of us.”

Meyers rotated the view of the Cáceres Compound, marked the gun emplacements and fields of fire, and then marked the paths taken by McNutt, Gerhardt, and Zacharowski. After considering the sequence of events, it seemed obvious what the likely sensor positions and coverage would be.

Crunching sand announced McNutt’s arrival. He yawned as he pulled his helmet off, then came to a stop in front of one of the cargo cases. “Something up, Colonel?”

“Not yet. I wanted you and Sergeant Banh in on our discussions.”

McNutt stared at the display for several seconds. “Thinking about hitting the compound?”

“We’ll have to do something eventually.”

Banh stepped through the doorway and pulled his helmet off. A fine rain of sand fell from the creases of his armor. “Colonel?”

“Thank you for joining us, Sergeant.” Meyers waved Banh forward.

So close, Banh smelled like recycled air, his own body odor and breath, filtered. His armor radiated coolness, but with his helmet off, there was heat bleeding off as well.

“That is the research compound?” Banh pointed at the displays.

Banh nodded—rapid, energetic—and his eyes rapidly blinked.

Paxton tilted his head toward the display. “The colonel’s been describing what he thinks is going on with this Waverley. I think he’s got an idea about our next step but wants your thoughts about it.”

McNutt cocked a thick eyebrow. “What about Corporal Gerhardt?”

Paxton crossed his arms. “I want him focused on camp security.”

That seemed enough to satisfy McNutt, if not to convince him. He jerked a thumb at the display. “You put all this together from the video feeds?”

“And some guesswork.” Meyers wished he could project more confidence.

“These things here, they are gun emplacements, Colonel?” Banh ran a finger over the arcs indicating fields of fire and the circles around the machine guns. “Just these two?”

“That’s all Gerhardt saw.”

Banh closed his eyes and bowed his head, then he looked at McNutt and Paxton. “Nothing protecting the north? This is their security?”

“That and a proxy.” Meyers circled the shed to the east. “I think it’s a mining model, with a heavy machine gun mounted. No way to be sure, but it looks like it’s being kept in this shed. Plus twenty to thirty security specialists.”

McNutt snorted. “Not top-shelf ones, either.”

Paxton leaned forward until he was inches from McNutt’s face. “A twelve-year-old kid can fire a gun well enough to kill the best-trained soldier, Corporal.”

“I like my chances against that kid and these rent-a-soldiers about the same.”

“Okay.” Meyers shifted and paced anxiously. “We’re talking about how they got to this point. Rent-a-soldiers, just two machine guns, sensors that didn’t detect the three of you crawling in.”

Banh looked at Meyers, eyes wide and staring intensely. McNutt shrugged, noncommittal.

“What would you think about this: Waverley comes here knowing the board of directors is going to sell him out.” Meyers sucked in his breath. That seemed less likely with each discovery and inference he made. “No. Scratch that. Let’s assume he’s made an agreement with the board. It’s not selling him out at all. It’s a…high-risk set-up. Most of these directors are on other metacorporate or corporate boards or they’re retired senior executives with huge stakes in the metacorporations.”

“Colonel?” Banh raised a hand. “Then you are saying that the United Nations told this Waverley we were coming? Is that right?”

“Not directly. But SunCorps could have someone on the inside. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, Waverley’s the lure. Satisfy the United Nations, let them send the ERF in to kill him, cooperate, and provide upgrades. Smile and shake hands and talk about peace.”

“And this is SunCorps now, Colonel?” Banh’s brow was wrinkled in concentration. “They are the ones smiling and shaking hands?”

“Yes. And they’re talking with the SSC. The Special Security Council.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Paxton cleared his throat. “Colonel, this is what we assume or what we know?”

Meyers smiled. “Good point. Let’s stick with assume. Waverley starts shipping weapons ahead of his departure. Off the books, or at least not through legitimate channels. He secures that yacht, hand-picks his team and gear. Maybe he ships more gear along with the weapons.”

“Gear?” McNutt cocked his head. “Sensors and such?”

“Exactly. He—Waverley—reaches out to the locals, finds out about this old compound.”

“The locals,” Banh said. “Reyes?”

“Governor Weidmann, I guess.” Meyers couldn’t see Reyes having enough control of everything that would be needed to sneak weapons shipments in. It didn’t even seem likely he could cooperate fully with Waverley. “Let’s assume Weidmann for now. So Weidmann tells Waverley about the compound, and Waverley figures that’s the perfect place to hole up and wait for the assassins. Us.”

McNutt snorted. “Did a piss-poor job planning, if that’s what he did.”

Meyers shook his head. “No. Something went wrong. The weapons and sensors weren’t waiting for him. He has to work with what he brought with him.”

“Reyes?” McNutt scratched at a chest pocket. “Double-crossed him?”

“I can’t see that. I have a hard time even seeing Waverley trying to cut a deal with—” Meyers snapped his fingers. “The barges.”

Paxton’s face creased in confusion.

“Barges, Colonel?” Banh seemed as confused as Paxton.

“Yeah,” McNutt said. “Waverley’s not working with Reyes at all, then? He’s working with Weidmann? The governor?”

“Or at least someone high enough up in power to make promises and push things through.” Meyers opened a view of Turning Point and drilled down to the docks where the barges were tied off. “And Reyes either lucks into the weapons when he seizes food, or he’s got his own special someone in Ardennen.”

Banh held up a hand. “Then Reyes does not know about Waverley, Colonel?”

Meyers tried imagining Reyes being completely oblivious to Waverley’s presence. It would be like an apex predator not sensing another apex predator in its territory, unlikely for any length of time. “I think he probably knows about Waverley at some level. He acted like he didn’t know anything about him when I asked for help, but it was all show. I think they’ve had at least enough of an interaction for the two of them to form…mutual respect. Waverley wiped out most of the Zombies. He has the proxy. I don’t think either one has enough to take out the other, but they both have something the other wants.”

“Well, that’s a sweet mess of shit,” McNutt said.

“It is.” The more Meyers thought about it, the more it made sense. “I don’t think Waverley would willingly give so much firepower to someone he didn’t have control over, and I think we’ve seen now that Reyes isn’t someone you control.”

McNutt sneered. “More like a mad dog needs put down.”

Meyers switched his attention back to the compound. The weak security made more sense if someone intercepted some of the intended gear. Better sensors, the armored bubble turrets…Waverley would have been equipped to slaughter the ERF, even if they hadn’t lost a third of their people during descent.

But even without sensors, someone had triggered something that brought the proxy into play. That meant something was working; the defenses weren’t completely ineffectual. And for the proxy to have responded so quickly, the operator had to either be staying plugged in most of the time or be near the control rig. Taking the proxy down would weaken Waverley, probably even more than wiping out the flyers. The up-armor wouldn’t protect the flight controls and fans from CAWS-5 fire, so their threat didn’t match what the proxy presented.

“So, Waverley’s a lot less protected than we thought,” Meyers said.

Paxton glanced toward Banh and McNutt. “Still assuming, Colonel?”

“Yes. And I’m not ready to gamble everything on that assumption. For all we know, he could be planning to attack the camp at sunrise, and he could take the Javelins out, even if we tried to launch them. But I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t think the plan Waverley and SunCorps had in place quite panned out, or we would already be dead. In fact, I don’t think he even knows we’re here yet.”

McNutt stiffened. “They’ve got Ski’s body.”

“As big as that explosion was, I don’t think they’ll be able to put anything more together than some pieces of armor. Maybe. I’m betting they’re more suspicious of Reyes than the ERF at the moment.”

“What about imagery, Colonel?” The way Banh sounded, he seemed to be asking himself the question as much as Meyers. “Or do you not think they have cameras?”

“I don’t think they got a look at anyone who went in. The problem is, everything we talk about right now is conjecture. We need to develop hard data, and the only way we can do that is by—”

McNutt pivoted. “You want to go out there again?”

“You have any other ideas?” Meyers looked from McNutt to Banh, and then to Paxton. “Any of you? Because the way I see it, we have a narrow window to act, and that window keeps shrinking. So either we take this opportunity to see what’s going on inside that compound, or we wait for Waverley to figure out we’re here and deal with what he sends our way. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be the one taking the chance, acting instead of reacting.”