Amanda clicked off and looked at Hennessey. “How could Aoife have known about the Pilgrim if you didn’t?”
“There’s no way it’s public knowledge. Earth attacking the Bertram on any level would instigate panic.”
“We need to get back to 11 and speak to Aoife. I don’t want to do this on open comms.”
“Let’s go,” replied Hennessey, and the pair of them increased their pace back to The Loop.
It was twenty minutes before they were back in 11, having got off at the second stop, 11-C. Amanda steered Hennessey down the main path, before crossing the woodland walk to the gardens in front of the school.
The same security guard stepped out to stop them, but scrunched his face up when he saw Amanda. She just waved nonchalantly at him and walked through. They arrived at the front entrance and stepped into a wall of noise. The sound of children echoed around the building, but muffled, like they were outside, and there were more adults walking around than Amanda had seen during her first visit with Jaxon.
“Can I help you?” came the voice of a woman behind a desk in the left corner of the entrance hall.
The two marines strode over to her, and Hennessey spoke. “We need to speak to Aoife Hanrahan. It’s urgent,” she added, just in case this woman decided to be a jobsworth.
“She’ll be in the staff room. The kids are on lunch break outside.” That explained the noise. “Down the corridor, third on right,” she said, pointing to her left beyond the staircase.
They walked down the corridor as instructed and entered the room behind the third door. There were about twenty people in here, all in various stages of conversation or sitting with a hollotab.
“Amanda? Captain Hennessey?” Aoife stood up from one of the armchairs around an ornate glass coffee table. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
“We just need a few minutes of your time, Aoif,” replied Amanda. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”
“Sure, sure,” she replied as they left the room, several pairs of eyes following them out of the door. They walked down the corridor to the end and entered a spacious room on the left side, full of musical instruments.
“Aoife, we need to ask you about a conversation you had with Libby yesterday.”
“I haven’t spoken to Libby since that night at Lovell’s a few days ago,” came the response.
“Libby said you told her about the shuttle being shot down and asked if Jaxon was okay.”
“Jaxon’s been shot down on the shuttle?” she asked, looking shocked and concerned.
The two marines looked at one another.
Hennessey spoke. “You know nothing about the Pilgrim being shot down? Yesterday?”
Aoife shook her head slowly, her eyes welling up with tears as she explored theirs for an answer. “I saw it leave yesterday – we all did. The main dock is a level below us and right underneath this school,” she replied. “We see launches every day through the glass.” She pointed to the dome behind the playing fields where a couple of hundred kids were currently running about, terrorising the few staff that were out there with them.
“I had no idea Jaxon was on board. Is he okay? Please, you’re worrying me.”
Amanda put a hand on Aoife’s shoulder to reassure her. “Jaxon’s fine. He wasn’t on the shuttle. And the shuttle is fine. It’s coming back today.”
Aoife visibly deflated and sucked in her breath, trying to regain control of her emotions. “What the fuck is going on, Mand? Has this got anything to do with what we talked about?”
“I don’t know. Honestly,” she added, seeing the look on Aoife’s face. “We have to go. I’m sorry to have barged in on you, but I had to ask you about it.”
They left Aoife where she stood, looking emotionally wrung out, and stepped out of the building. Amanda tried to raise Jaxon on comms but he wasn’t answering. “Let’s pay Libby a visit,” she said, heading towards Jaxon’s apartment building.
* * *
Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, 1 Bravo filled up, as did the other twenty rooms. By the time the last person filed in, the entire glass structure was full of pilots and senior command. I kept checking my bio-monitor for Amanda’s call-back, but it never came.
Addison walked into the room last, with General Lavigne. There was a strange assortment of characters in here – ten pilots, most of whom I’d met before, four navy pilots and eight marine commandos who looked like they could kill me with a paper cup.
Lavigne took a seat in the corner, and Addison stood in front of us. He pulled out a hollotab, misted the glass and opened up an image of the Echo facility and the downed aircraft on the launch pad.
“1 Squadron. You are the tip of the spear on today’s mission. Yesterday, during a routine re-supply mission, CAF Guardians attacked the squadron and shuttle.”
There was an outbreak of chatter in the room. Clearly, nobody knew anything about it. I wondered how Libby and Aoife had heard about it, and my brain started meandering through previous conversations with them both, looking for any signs of deception, coercion or anything that could suggest either of them was on the wrong side of this. I’d completely zoned out when I heard my name.
“… and Jaxon is the only pilot that returned to the Bertram.”
Every face in the room was looking at me. I felt like I was dropping below the Kármán Line as my face started burning up. I settled for a weak smile.
“The footage from that fly-over is incredible. In the wake of the evacuation closing, whilst Echo remains standing, most of the ICP building has burned to the ground.” He stood back as they screened the recording of our fly-by.
There were some grumblings as the people in the room took in the sheer scale of destruction at GCHQ.
“As of right now, there are upwards of six hundred high-ranking officials waiting to be repatriated, plus the Nova Pilgrim and five Sigmas. Our mission is to retrieve the Pilgrim, its cargo, the Sigmas and all seven pilots. Priority one is the cargo. Without it the Bertram cannot leave orbit, which means saving the Pilgrim. Our secondary mission is to save the pilots, and our tertiary aim is the repatriation of six hundred souls.”
Over the course of the next hour, they laid every manoeuvre out for us, step by step. It was a fairly simple objective, with a complex interpretation of the rules of engagement. All aircraft were considered hostile, until proven otherwise, including the five Sigmas and the Pilgrim. We were to skim the Atlantic at just five metres, staying below conventional radar. We’d be visible via satellite, but those images would be delayed in transmission, assuming they were even being watched. It was a risky strategy, but there were no other solutions forthcoming.
I was to drop my Sigma to the deck, let my passenger out and then retract my landing gear ready to move instantly. They changed our call signs to mission signals, 1 Alpha, 1 Bravo, etcetera. I was 1 Bravo, with Addison taking the lead sign. I’d be carrying one of the navy pilots with me. Addison and I were to hover above the launch bay whilst the other five landed and dropped off the marine commandos, who were to secure the launch area before signalling to us to release the navy pilots who would perform a visual inspection of the Pilgrim. The commandos would then sweep the Pilgrim internally before admitting the pilots, securing them in the cockpit and then opening the bay doors, scanning the six hundred souls that would join the Bertram, one at a time. The commandos would board the Pilgrim to maintain order and initiate the hard-docking procedures of the Pilgrim and Palmer.
We’d have three further Sigmas holding above launch with a navy pilot and two commandos for redundancy, in case any of the advanced team suffered losses.
Somewhere in this mess, we hoped to secure the release of the previous navy pilots and Sigma pilots, who were to join their respective vessels and accompany us home. We were to make a hard exfiltration, with a vertical climb to twenty-thousand metres before pitching up and accelerating into the stratosphere. The fleet would surround us like a huge, moving funnel and fend off any attack until we reached the Kármán Line at an altitude of one-hundred kilometres. From there we were to escort the Pilgrim into the Bertram’s orbital pathway at five-hundred-and-fifty kilometres altitude, holding station fifty kilometres out, supported by the remaining fleet while the Nova Palmer docked. We would stay on point with the fleet assembling at the rear of both crafts, acting as a shield to deflect and destroy space debris and meteors that may stray into the path of either shuttle.
Upon completion of the personnel transfer, we would escort the Nova Palmer back to the forward dock on Globe 11. Another squadron would take the Pilgrim inside the shield where work would begin on unloading the cargo, whilst the remaining fleet returned to the forward dock on 11.
There were a lot of unknowns on this mission, and we had done very little preparation on handling other combat vessels in the arena. Our mission was purely to escort and exfiltrate. The fleet would be in the fight without us.
* * *
Amanda and Sara entered the south tower of the BRAF accommodations, crossing the lobby and taking a mag-lift to the fifty-first floor, where they turned left and walked down to Jaxon’s apartment. Amanda swiped her bio-band across the entry pad and entered, with Hennessey close behind. It was immediately apparent that Libby wasn’t home.
The apartment was messy, with Jaxon’s spare flight suit thrown haphazardly on the floor and the wardrobe doors left wide open. The bed was unmade and unkempt. There was a fresh pot of coffee, still hot but untouched in the kitchen, and wet footprints from the shower to the apartment door.
“Something’s not right,” said Amanda, looking at Hennessey. “I’ve spent the last couple of weeks with Jaxon, and a lot of time holed up here talking about the mission and the team, and I’ve never seen so much as a sock out of place.”
“Maybe Libby isn’t the domesticated type?” asked Hennessey, eyeing the wet floor and frowning.
“She always made her bed back in the dorm and tidied her things away. I don’t think she did this.”
“You think someone else has been here?”
Amanda paused for a moment and walked to the EM glass. She scanned the pathways below before turning back to Hennessey. “Everything’s wrong. This is too messy. I think Libby’s been abducted. Why would she make fresh coffee and then not drink any? Who gets out of the shower soaking wet and immediately heads for the exit?” She shook her head. “I think someone came here, pulled her from the shower, grabbed her fatigues from the wardrobe and marched her out of the door.”
Amanda knew Libby was scheduled to join the maintenance crews inside Globe 10 today, so they closed up and left the apartment. Hennessey tapped her comms, but Amanda grabbed her wrist.
“Amanda, we need to call this in and find her,” said Hennessey, pulling her hand out of Amanda’s grip.
“We can’t. Right now, we don’t know who’s who. We need to find her ourselves. The coffee is hot, so she can’t have left very long ago and she’s due back at work today, in Globe 10.”
“Call Farrell. See if she can track her,” replied Hennessey.
Amanda tapped her comms and Farrell once again answered after barely a single tone.
“Gemma, it’s Amanda again. I need you to find Libby Baxendale for me.”
Farrell acknowledged the request and punched away at her hollotab, scrolling through the data.
“That’s odd.”
“What’s odd?” Amanda responded.
“Well, her bio-band is showing as inactive. Last location recorded was 11-5-C. Floor 51 of the south tower.”
“That’s where she’s been staying. We’ve literally just been in – she’s not there. Indications of a possible abduction.”
“It makes no sense, though. Her bio-band is still recording her vitals and still connected to comms, but I’m not getting a location. It just says inactive on screen, even though it clearly is still active,” replied Farrell. “It’s like someone has reprogrammed her band to withhold the GPS signal. I’ve never seen a status like this.”
“So she’s definitely alive?” asked Amanda.
“No question,” replied Farrell. “It’s coded to her DNA and showing a strong pulse.”
“Is that something you could do from the Hub?” asked Hennessey. “Re-program the band?”
“No, no, definitely not,” said Farrell. “At least not remotely. You’d need physical access to the band. Someone has actually removed the lines of code that connect the band with the station. It shouldn’t be possible.”
“Okay, thanks Gemma. If she turns up, can you send me her location please?”
“I’ll monitor it. I’m not going anywhere for a few hours.”
Amanda clicked off and looked at Hennessey. “Something tells me we don’t have a few hours.”