Doomsday minus 533 Earth days.
In Madame Vargas’s clean room, Lynette Ellenshaw was pacing. Her face was flushed. It was darker than her jacket and almost as pink as her hair.
Juno watched her for a few moments, then deposited her cup and saucer back on the tea tray. There was no point in pouring the second cup of Earl Grey, since the Supreme Adjudicator evidently had no intention of sitting down to drink it. “Dare I ask how the emergency High Council meeting ended up this afternoon?” she asked.
Ellenshaw halted and snapped erect, as though surprised to discover she wasn’t alone.
“I don’t know. I left early.”
Juno frowned. “You walked out on an active session?”
“I had to. And to make sure there wouldn’t be a quorum, I convinced Arbo Lugaparathan to walk out with me. You know him, I believe — he represents Indo-Asia on the Council.”
Juno knew him well. She’d once recruited a Fleet admiral to help her browbeat him into dropping capital charges that had been filed against Gael Dedrick. Today, however, she remarked casually, “Yes. I served on a tribunal panel with him.”
“Well, he has a spine you can tie in a slip knot, so I knew that if he stayed in that room it was just a matter of time until he threw his vote in with the other three.”
“Voting on what, if I may ask?”
“Honestly, I could have strangled Patricia Chen. She’s the Council Chair this year. I told her it was a secret briefing, and that the information was being purposely withheld from Fleet Command for several more days; but when she heard that Daisy Hub had enlisted the Nandrians to fight alongside our own forces, she insisted on including our military advisor in the discussion. Flag Admiral Corbin Wickes.”
“All right. Can this admiral keep quiet about what he’s heard until the report is filed?”
“Outside of chambers? I’m not sure. But there was no shutting him up during the meeting. You know that old saying, ‘If your only tool is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail’? He heard the words ‘Nandrian warriors’, and all he wanted to talk about was Earth’s military options. Worse, he kept interrupting me to do it.
“Wickes was selling a military offensive as a way to avoid having to evacuate the planet, and I could see that the idea was gaining traction. When Rhys Amis, the Supreme Adjudicator for Greater Europe, moved that the High Council approve Wickes’s proposal, I knew I couldn’t stay in the room a moment longer. I poked Bo in the ribs and we left together.”
Seeming to deflate before Juno’s eyes, Ellenshaw sank down with a bleak expression onto one of the padded armchairs. “This was not the discussion that I was expecting to have with the High Council, although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I gave them the hard facts and asked them to make a tough decision. Wickes offered them an easy alternative. At this point, I can see only one way to short-circuit his plan and get ours back on track. I’m afraid I must take you up on your hypothetical offer, Juno, although not for the purpose we originally talked about. That is, if it’s still on the table.”
She made a show of uncertainty. “I’ll have to think about it, Lynette. Social change was near and dear to Dennis’s heart, and he put a lot of work into creating solidarity among the Ineligibles.”
“Who will all be dead in about a year and a half’s time if we can’t get the Council to pull together in the right direction,” Ellenshaw pointed out sharply.
The Ineligibles would probably all be dead either way, but Juno wasn’t about to remind her of that. As Forrand had always said, there was a time and a place to reveal the truth. Right now was neither. So, she said nothing, just gave the other woman a wounded look and began counting the seconds. One … two … three …
“All right, then, think about it,” said Ellenshaw, throwing up her hands in surrender. “But don’t take too long. Please! The clock is ticking down.”
“I won’t,” Juno promised, thinking of another, quite different clock — the one marking time before the general strike caught everyone, especially the High Council, by surprise.
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 532 Earth days.
“Did your puppet perform well yesterday?” Novak asked, leaning back in his chair.
Seated on the other side of his desk at EIS Ops Headquarters, Juno uttered an impatient syllable. “Please don’t call her that. It’s demeaning.”
“Ye-es, but it’s true. You’ve been pulling her strings for years.”
“Listen, she meant a lot to Forrand when they were younger. And she’s a Supreme Adjudicator, deserving of some respect,” she scolded him.
He sat up straight and tried to look chastened. “All right, point taken. So, how did the High Council meeting turn out?”
“Pretty much as I expected, actually. Lots of talking, nothing resolved. According to my sources, it broke up shortly after Ellenshaw and Lugaparathan walked out, leaving the Council one member short of a quorum. It was a top secret session, so none of the Supreme Adjudicators had brought an aide to act as proxy. Fortunately, Flag Admiral Wickes doesn’t have voting rights.”
He frowned. “A Fleet admiral was there?”
“A flag admiral, acting as military liaison to the Council.” He stared a question at her, prompting her to continue, “When they try to retire an admiral but he refuses to leave, they stick the word ‘flag’ in front of his rank, pull him from the chain of command, and give him a nice, safe assignment to keep him out of the way. Wickes is simply an information conduit between the High Council and Fleet Command. He’s not really a part of either one.” A pause, then, “Are you thinking he should be placed under surveillance?”
“No. If he was going to leak the information to Fleet Command, he’s already had time to do it. Why? Are you thinking he should be?”
She pursed and unpursed her lips. “Ellenshaw and Lugaparathan left the meeting because a motion to endorse a full military offensive in response to the Corvou threat was on the table. It was Wickes’s idea, and he apparently sold it hard.”
“Putting preparation for combat at the top of Fleet Command’s to do list,” Novak mused aloud. “That would drastically reduce the number of ships available for evacuation. Definitely a problem.”
“And it gets worse. Normally, Space Installation Security has authority on all colony worlds and hubs, and the Fleet patrols the space in between. With the Council’s endorsement on record, Fleet Command could confidently invoke General Order Eleven as soon as notification of the Corvou declaration of war hit an admiral’s inbox.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It gives Fleet Command the power to act unilaterally if necessary to protect Earth space and every world and installation in it. Briefly put, it means they can summarily declare martial law in all of Earth space, including on Earth itself.”
“And on Daisy Hub?” he added grimly.
“’Fraid so. It’s one of those little wrinkles in the constitution that no one has had occasion to use in more than two hundred years, and so almost everyone has forgotten it exists. But it’s there. Forrand pointed it out to me once. And I guarantee you, Fleet Command knows exactly where to find it.”
“But they need the High Council’s blessing before they can activate it?”
“Let’s just say they need the High Council not to oppose it.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure Wickes never gets a chance to reintroduce his motion. Is there going to be another emergency meeting?”
With dawning suspicion in her voice, she replied slowly, “Yes. Lynette has promised to let me know as soon as it’s put on the schedule.”
“Okay. And where is Flag Admiral Wickes right now?”
“I have it on good authority that he is currently entertaining company in his hotel room in New Chicago as he waits to be summoned to the next secret High Council session. Have you decided to put him under surveillance after all?”
“Not exactly. I’m afraid he’s going to be absent from the next meeting.”
Instantly, her chin rose. “I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but tell your people that he mustn’t be terminated. I promised Lynette that no lasting harm would come to any members of the High Council, and that includes its military liaison officer.”
Novak cursed silently. “Forrand would never have made a promise like that, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have felt obligated to keep it. And neither should you.”
“Stop comparing me to Dennis Forrand,” she warned him. “I keep my promises.”
“Come on, Juno. We both learned from a master how politics works. And Ellenshaw may have been Forrand’s pet, but she’s never been yours. For years, I’ve watched the two of you dance around each other like boxers in the ring, mapping each other’s weaknesses and looking for chances to exploit them. You’ve played her many times in the past. Don’t go soft on her now, not when the stakes are this high.”
Impaling him with an icy gray stare, she told him, “Yes, I’ve played her at times, and I’ve used her political influence to further my agenda, just as Forrand taught me to do. But I’ve also earned her trust by keeping my word.”
“That’s admirable. And it’s why Forrand put me in charge of Ops, to ensure that at least one of us would possess the steel to make the hard choices and take the necessary actions. Well, I keep my promises too, Madame Vargas, and here’s my promise to you: I’m not planning to terminate Admiral Wickes, but if that’s what has to be done, then that’s what is going to happen. And as far as my half of the EIS is concerned, the same goes for every other member of the High Council.”
Juno opened her mouth, looking as though she wanted to give him a piece of her mind, then seemed to think better of it. Holding herself stiffly erect, she rose from her chair.
“Very well, then,” she said. “I’ll contact you about the next Council meeting.”
Maybe she would. She might even be truthful about what transpired there, but Novak wasn’t going to bet on it. As soon as his office door closed behind her, he got busy organizing a couple of ops.
The first encrypted message went to Nate Eastman, one of the original Warrior Kings, now a surveillance expert at Novak’s company, SecuriTech.
The closed circuit security system in the High Council chambers had recently been upgraded. It now included an additional live feed to a dedicated server at District Security Headquarters. SecuriTech held the maintenance and repair contract for all of District Security’s monitoring technology. That gave Eastman a foot in the door, but it didn’t give him access to the secured servers. Hence, the second encrypted message, to Melville Ridout, the current Chief of Security for the District of New Chicago and clandestine ally and advisor to Dennis Forrand and his successors at the EIS.
The third encrypted message was for Admiral Wickes’s eyes only, by way of the Space Installation Security server on Mars.
Once the ops clock was ticking, Novak was able to sit back and reflect. It was handy having someone on the inside, particularly when that someone had the kind of clout Ridout wielded. Or Ellenshaw, for that matter.
Novak had earlier referred to her as a puppet. That might not have been the right word to describe her. In Americas, strength and cunning were essential for anyone with political ambitions. While still alive, Dennis Forrand had selected Councilor Lynette Ellenshaw to understudy his positions. However, she would never have actually succeeded him as Head of the Regional Council, let alone won the appointment to fill the vacancy he’d left on the High Council, if she’d been easily swayed or manipulated.
Playable? Yes. Anyone could be played if you knew which buttons to push. And that wasn’t something Novak had learned from Dennis Forrand — it was what Tommy Novotny had learned on the unforgiving streets of New Chicago. Forrand might have been a master of dirty politics, but Rex Regum was the undisputed Warrior King of survival.
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 527 Earth days.
Ridout’s encrypted message arrived five days later, early in the afternoon: I’ve been promoted. Wanted you to be the first to know, since we’re on the same team. Come alone to my office at 6:30 sharp so we can discuss it.
It set off a chorus of alarms in Novak’s mind. “On the same team” was Ridout’s duress code. It meant there was a weapon being held on him, either real or figurative, and nothing he said or wrote was to be taken at face value. But this message was EIS-encrypted, so code words should not have been necessary … unless there was another significance to them, a subtext Ridout wanted him to decipher.
If the District Chief of Security had, in fact, been bumped up the career ladder, that would affect his relationship with Earth Intelligence going forward. The first person in the organization to learn about it would have been Juno Vargas. District Council offices were just two floors above Ridout’s, and he would have hopped onto the lift and delivered the news to the Chief Adjudicator immediately, face to face.
Ridout was Vargas’s man. That had never before been in doubt. But now he was saying he’d cut her out of the loop. The implications of that were unsettling. Was this private meeting about joining forces to foil her? Was it some sort of loyalty test? Or was it an attempt by Ridout to draw Novak into a trap?
As if on cue, Novak’s comm unit began flashing. He pulled up the meta. It was a voice-link with Juno Vargas on their secure channel.
Right on the heels of Ridout’s message? This did not bode well.
Bracing himself, he completed the connection and said in his heartiest voice, “Madame Chief Adjudicator! What can I do for you?”
“Not a thing, Mr. Novak, but I suspect you need a favor from me right now.”
“Oh?”
“Half an hour ago, a man wearing a SecuriTech uniform signed in at Reception using the same name as one of our shell identities. He waved a hard copy service order in the receptionist’s face and told Security he was coming to realign the securecams on my floor. Security called up and told me to expect him, but — surprise, surprise — he has yet to appear. I happen to know for a fact that no one working under me has filed a service request for surveillance systems maintenance. So, before making any traceable inquiries, I thought it might be prudent to check with you.”
There was a brief, leaden pause. Then she continued, “You were adamant earlier that Angeli respect your boundaries or face the consequences. Now it appears that you’ve crossed mine. Are you running an op in my territory, Barry? And if so, would you be so kind as to read me into it?”
He could practically hear her jaw clenching around each word.
Tommy Novotny’s knee-jerk response to a question thrown at him in anger would have been to lie. Fortunately, Barry Novak’s common sense reared up and quashed it before the words could leave his mouth.
“He’s on a mission to copy a file from one of the servers. The High Council’s second emergency meeting adjourned yesterday morning, and the live feed was recorded and stored—”
“—in the Top Security vault of the Data Management Department. That’s where he must be. Damn!” she muttered. “They adjourned yesterday? Lynette never said a word to me about it. But you knew?”
“I heard about the meeting from a confidential source,” he replied guardedly.
“Well! It would appear that your sources are more reliable than mine at the moment.”
Novak wasn’t sure how to take that. After all, his informant for the op had been Ridout, one of her most trusted associates.
“I’m sorry if you thought I was withholding information from you,” she said. “I assume that was your reason for sending an agent behind my back to break into the server?”
“Because of the way our last conversation ended, I wasn’t sure you would support the op.”
“Uh-huh,” she said after a pause. “One day soon, we’re going to have to talk about our mutual trust issues, Barry. For now, however … I’ll take the blame for forgetting to enter a service request into our maintenance system and make sure your operative gets away with his prize, on one condition: that I receive a true copy of the file as well, by midnight tonight at the latest.”
Novak didn’t even have to think about it. “Agreed.”
By six o’clock that evening, every securecam on the fifth floor of the District Administration building had been thoroughly checked and adjusted, and Eastman was safely back in the clean room at SecuriTech, using rogue technology to duplicate the file he’d stolen from the High Council’s server.
Half an hour after that, with a spot-jammer in his pocket to foil the surveillance system, Novak entered Melville Ridout’s anteroom. A gallery of glowering portraits hung on the walls. He could almost feel their eyes following him as he strode past the receptionist’s desk, on his way to the Chief’s office door.
It slid aside to reveal the District Chief of Security, ensconced behind his heavy maple desk. It looked solid enough to have been cast in one piece from a mold. Until today, that had been Novak’s impression of the man himself — strong, dependable, and damn near impossible to break. Now, seeing the lines etched by stress and weariness on Ridout’s face, he wasn’t certain anymore.
Three guest chairs were invitingly arranged in front of the desk, but Novak resisted the impulse to sit. This was not that kind of meeting, and he might need to be quick on his feet.
Catching a movement at the corner of his eye, Novak spun and found himself standing face to face with an attractive young woman wearing the uniform of a Regional Security officer. It included a wide leather belt from which hung an arsenal of ways to incapacitate a suspect. Just the sight of it made Tommy Novotny stir restlessly inside him.
Meanwhile, this twenty-something officer with freckled cheeks and light brown hair was staring at Novak with cobalt blue eyes so full of hostility that they triggered an additional queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“So, you’re the one?” she demanded.
“The one what?”
“Mr. Novak,” said Ridout behind him, “meet my niece, Regional Officer Irene Bauer.”
“I’m … pleased to meet you, Officer Bauer. And I have to say, I’m a little confused.”
She moved closer and repeated deliberately, “Aren’t you the one who arranged for the murders of my parents?”
Reflexively, Novak stilled his expression and stood his ground, returning her steady gaze. Meanwhile, his thoughts were doing backflips and racing around madly inside his head.
“Chief,” he said, with effort keeping his tone of voice conversational, “I think you need to fill me in. What’s this all about?”
“Step away, Irene,” Ridout told her.
She bristled for a moment, then broke eye contact with Novak and went to stand beside her uncle’s desk.
“Irene believes you were somehow responsible for the freak accidents that killed her biological parents,” Ridout explained. “I’ve tried talking sense to her, but—”
“They weren’t accidents,” she cut in. “They were deliberately staged. A vehicle on a gridded thoroughfare doesn’t suddenly become invisible to the Traffic Control computer without Human assistance. And don’t you dare make me out to be some overwrought conspiracy theorist who can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality! It’s insulting!”
Ridout raised both hands in a gesture of surrender and flung him an apologetic look.
“All right,” Novak told her, “start at the beginning. Who exactly are these birth parents that you’re talking about?”
“Gavin Holchuk,” she replied. “And his wife, Risa.”
“Holchuk,” Novak repeated thoughtfully. “I remember that name. Wasn’t he—?”
“—the sociology student who was in the news for about a year after their PV crashed and burned, killing his Ineligible wife,” Ridout supplied. “He kept insisting there had been a baby in the vehicle — a fourteen-month-old girl — and that the lack of charred remains was proof that she’d survived. It was sad to watch such a brilliant man go delusional with grief. Even after Data Management published documents proving that the Holchuks had been childless, he continued to accuse the Relocation Authority of stealing his daughter and giving her to someone else to raise.”
Holchuk had been mistaken about the Relocation Authority. This wasn’t the way they operated. However, the chain of events just described bore the stamp of another organization with which Novak was intimately familiar.
Twenty-three years earlier, he and Juno Vargas had still been learning the ropes, and the EIS had been under the iron control of Dennis Forrand. Even then, Novak had realized what a ruthless, calculating son of a bitch Forrand could be. If he’d decided Daisy Hub needed Holchuk’s expertise, and an Earthbound wife and infant daughter stood in the way, this was almost certainly how he would have gone about eliminating them. For Forrand, what happened next would have been a win-win. Holchuk was packed off to Daisy Hub (most likely continuing to blame the Relocation Authority for the loss of his family), the official record was changed at its source, and the EIS remained a deep, dark secret.
Until now. Irene Bauer had apparently found a loose thread and tugged on it. If she had in fact begun to unravel Earth Intelligence’s cover, that would explain how she’d leveraged this meeting, and why Ridout had insisted that Juno Vargas be left out of it.
The EIS mantra began unspooling in Novak’s mind: Turn her or terminate her.
He pretended to feel pity for her. “You know, I’ve seen this before with people who were adopted at a young age. They’re so desperate for answers that they’ll read meaning into any crumb of information that crosses their path.”
“Desperate? Try outraged,” she spat. “And I don’t deal in crumbs, Mr. Novak. I have uncovered enough evidence over the past year to make a damn good case for data tampering, and not just with a personal vehicle years ago.”
“Really? What kind of evidence?” Novak challenged her.
“I was checking my social news feed, and I came across a file containing some very interesting images,” she declared. “Imagine my surprise at learning that I’d had a boyfriend three years ago, someone that I’ve yet to meet. That we had apparently dated for several months. That he had even bought a diamond ring to give me when I accepted his marriage proposal.”
That was Townsend’s cover story for the Daisy Hub mission. It had overlapped Space Installation Security’s version and should have been permanently deleted from the InfoCommNet. Novak felt a chill. Someone had been careless, perhaps willfully so. He made a mental note to find out who.
“Obviously, the data was fabricated. I assumed that this ‘boyfriend’ was a pathetic attempt at stalking by some delusional hacker, and so I decided to track him down.”
Novak glanced at Ridout, who was clearly not hearing anything new. The Chief was leaning on his elbows on the desktop, looking disgusted and dispirited at the same time.
So much for damn near unbreakable.
“And did you find him?” Novak inquired.
“Yes. Funnily enough, he’d been working for District Security for years, until he bought the ring. Then he was posted off-world, practically overnight, to Daisy Hub. That made two postings under questionable circumstances, both to the place where my birth father supposedly died. I don’t believe in coincidences, Mr. Novak.”
“And yet, life is full of them. Tell me, was the Chief aware of this research project of yours?”
“Eventually,” she replied. “Once I’d gathered enough data to suggest a theory, I confronted him with it. He warned me that I was about to blow the lid off a highly-classified deep space operation and advised me to turn my efforts in a different direction.”
“And…?”
“I did. My formal request for a DNA comparison with the Holchuks had been rejected —or, more likely, blocked — so I switched to unofficial channels. The results may not be admissible as evidence in a tribunal, but DNA doesn’t lie. Mine proves that I am the daughter of Gavin and Risa Holchuk, and my position as a Regional Security officer gives me the authority to open an investigation into their separate, suspicious deaths.”
It took all of his self-control not to react.
“And you twisted your uncle’s arm to bring me to this meeting. Why? To threaten me?”
“To offer you a deal. The databank says Madeline Holchuk never existed, and yet here I am. And if it could be lying about me…”
“…it could be wrong about another Holchuk,” Novak supplied. “All right, Officer Bauer, let’s cut to the chase. What exactly do you want from me, and what are you prepared to give me in return?”
“I want to keep digging until I get to the truth, and I believe the truth about my birth father is on Daisy Hub. My research has turned up interesting information about you, Mr. Novak. I know you have connections. Don’t insult me by denying it. Help me to find Gavin Holchuk, and I’ll cease and desist from investigating you, and whatever shady business you might be involved in.”
Novak shared a look with Ridout. The Chief’s eyes held a pleading expression. He had to know what was running through Novak’s mind.
Turn her or terminate her.
Irene Bauer didn’t realize how lucky she was not to be dealing with Dennis Forrand right now.
Hardening his voice, Novak told her, “Your uncle was correct. Daisy Hub is a highly classified operation, and neither one of us is at liberty to discuss the details with you. However, I can give you this much: your suspicions about your birth father are correct.”
“I want to see for myself,” she said. “Can you arrange for us to meet in person?”
“You want to go to Daisy Hub? I can help you with that, but it would be extremely risky,” Novak warned her.
Ridout had been associated with the EIS for too many years not to guess where this was leading. Novak stole a glance at his face and saw a man already mourning his niece’s untimely demise.
“My job is risky, and half the time there’s no reward. This risk will be worthwhile,” she said.
“All right. I’ll need several days to figure out the logistics and get back to you. Acceptable?”
A beat, then, “Acceptable. Make it happen and we’ve got a deal.”
“Good. Now I have a question for you, and I need an honest answer, please. Have you spoken to anyone besides Chief Ridout about your research or about Daisy Hub?”
“No.”
“You’re certain that there’s no one who might disbelieve a cover story and follow you there?”
Her lips pressed tightly together, she gave her head an emphatic shake. “No one.”
“In that case, you’d better put in for some leave time, Regional Officer Bauer. And don’t speak of this meeting to anyone. One way or another, you’ll be leaving Earth before the end of the month.”
She squared her shoulders. “Thank you, Mr. Novak.”
He nodded stiffly in acknowledgment.
As they watched her stride through the door to the anteroom, Ridout murmured, “She won’t be coming back, will she?”
The short answer to that was no, she wouldn’t. Novak was sending her on a one-way journey. But Daisy Hub was nearly two weeks’ travel time from Earth. A lot could change in two weeks, and strange things were known to happen in space. And Novak’s gut was telling him that when it involved a member of Ridout’s family, the unvarnished truth might be more than even a staunchly loyal ally ought to know.
“She might. She’s her father’s daughter, so anything’s possible, Chief. But I can tell you this much for certain: if she does come back, it won’t be as Irene Bauer.” Noticing the other man’s startled expression, Novak couldn’t resist adding, “What? You figured I would order her termination out of hand?”
“I thought it was standard procedure.”
“For Dennis Forrand, maybe. Not for me.”
Ridout pulled himself erect and narrowed his gaze. “Forrand recruited and trained you, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t entirely believe anything you say.”
“To be honest, I’d be disappointed if you did, Chief.”
With that, Novak wheeled and left the room. He had transportation arrangements to make, and a lengthy video recording to watch. And then, considering the nature of the company he owned, it appeared that he had a rather embarrassing security breach to track down.