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Markis wondered if the Council bought his line of complete bullshit about the cyber attack. There were so many holes in that narrative it would keep the Council wrapped around their own axles for a week.
He touched his screen to run the application that enabled his virtual clone, then got up to talk to Rick. The rest would see Chairman Markis nodding, looking puzzled, fidgeting, scratching his head and the like in response to their blatherings. The software would also select Council members to speak according to the rules of procedure. They’d never know the difference. His staff would summarize everything in a transcript.
“Any word from the submarine op?”
“No, sir. We don’t expect it yet,” Rick said apologetically.
“I know. I’m just...nervous. I could use a drink.”
“I’ll open the bar, sir.” He stood up from his control console to open a cabinet with a selection of glasses and liquors.
It was good to be able to drink again, to toss off a shot of decent Scotch and not worry that one would turn into a dozen and then into a blackout episode. Whatever the Plague had taken from him, it had given him that. That and a lot more.
Markis thought about his children Ezekiel, Vincent and Elizabeth, precious gifts. Maybe if – when – the world was finally at peace they could dispense with birth control and just depend on the researchers’ predictions of a child every ten or fifteen years for an average Eden couple.
He saluted Rick with his glass, and they tossed off the single malt with relish.
Rick smiled at Markis, a winning young man that looked a lot like his father and mother, with Zeke’s grin but Cassie’s furrowed brow when he was thinking.
Daniel drifted into his memories, missing Zeke yet again. He’d been the key to everything; he’d led the team that rescued Elise Wallis, who had become Elise Markis, from the clutches of Jervis Jenkins III and INS, Inc. He’d brought the tiny band of revolutionaries to the forgotten Sosthenes Bunker; he’d rescued his own family and died doing it, but his efforts had provided the Free Communities with its spymaster, his widow Cassandra, a cyber-engineer par excellence in his son Rick, and his daughter Millicent as the chairman’s superb personal assistant. For the quasi-leader of a loose group of free nations, these trustworthies were an absolute godsend.
Zeke had also left them a legacy of honor, a narrative that helped weld the disparate groups of Edens together in common cause. Every grade school in the FC taught the story of Ezekiel Johnstone, martyr to their revolution.
Of course, Zeke hadn’t intended to be a martyr; like most heroes, he just wanted what was best for his family and friends. He’d had no bigger ambitions; he had left that to Daniel, but thus do legends grow.
“How long do you think it will take for the leak to reach the UG Presidents?” Rick asked.
“Good question; one I’d like to know the answer to for future disinformation operations. Here’s one for you, since you’re the subject matter expert. How long will it take them to figure out your cyber attack is a feint and a bluff?”
“Oh, sir, but it’s not. I designed it to be as vicious and tenacious as possible. It will give them fits for weeks, even if it does nothing but lock up their ICE. Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics absorb a lot of resources, and I intend to make them burn RAM for a while. They will have to take some of it offline just for their peace of mind. Their command and control will be hell.”
“Good. I want them chasing ghosts and phantoms. I want Spooky and his team to have as much time and distraction as possible.”
“You want them to come home.” Rick put down his glass, running a finger around the rim to make a squeaking sound.
“Of course. They are my friends and colleagues.”
“Sir...you don’t have to play the politician with me.” His eyes were haunted. “Just tell me...tell me they’re going to make it.”
Markis pulled himself up short, setting down his glass to look closely at his dead friend’s son. “I’m sorry, Rick. I’m concerned about them too. I didn’t like the odds of the mission but the payoff is just too big not to take the risk. But what am I missing? Something personal in it for you?”
He looked down, a young man’s embarrassment in the presence of a revered elder. “Jill Repeth,” he whispered.
“The Marine? You better call her Gunnery Sergeant or she’ll kick your ass. Besides, she’s...” Realization dawned on his face. “Oh, shut up, DJ. I’m sorry, Rick.” That’s when you know you’re getting old, when you miss the obvious and start talking to yourself out loud in the middle of a conversation. “Oldsters like me forget that age doesn’t matter much anymore, not when everyone will live to be a thousand looking like twenty. So...you and Jill, huh?” He slapped Rick’s shoulder, rocking the slight man sideways.
“Uh...I hope so. But she’s so...so...” He waved his hands, losing words.
“Intense? Maybe that’s why she likes you. Opposites attract.”
“But what if she doesn’t come back!” Markis could hear the anguish in Rick’s voice, the fear of losing the shining jewel of his life, his pearl of great price, before she had even been truly his. The chemistry of infatuation was completely natural; it was one mental illness no plague could cure.
“There’s always that risk.” Markis put his hand back on Rick’s shoulder, fatherly. “Have faith. They are the best we have, and the people they are going up against won’t know what hit them.”
He hoped it was true.
