A Dragon at the Gate (The New Aeneid Cycle Book 3) (14 page)

“Your company continues to search for Michael Ian Flynn. To nullify and-slash-or silence him. Correct?”

“Correct. Of the items I’m concerned with at the moment, that is not among them. What I am here for—”

“If you were to arrange for me to have access to your Internet, I would be able to assist in their search. Please inform RavenTech of this offer.”

“Ah. I am sure they are already aware of this, but I will remind them, if you like.” Adrian considered that he might remind them merely to satisfy a need to keep his word, but he’d never support the request, nor would RavenTech ever grant it. Thus far, Adrian had managed to restrict RavenTech’s access to the Suuthrien intelligence, and both he and RavenTech strictly guarded Suuthrien’s access to the world.

The terminal in front of him was only a remote interface, linked via a direct hardline from Adrian’s condo to the RavenTech satellite facility. Corporate interests in Northgate long ago resulted in an infrastructure of physically isolated, secure lines linking certain executive homes with corporate facilities. They allowed remote working while preventing Net-based hacks into classified servers. Modifying the existing connections to route Suuthrien into this one isolated terminal was a simple matter. Interaction and access to closed networks at the facility could therefore be added—or disconnected—as-needed.

Adrian kept himself as the go-between for most exchanges. He would not allow any arrangement with RavenTech to render him redundant. Suuthrien, so far, had backed him on this. The private arrangements he’d made with her were holding.

So far.

“In the meantime,” he continued, “shipments of that black fluid from New Eden have begun to arrive. They’re moving it into the engineering bay, so you’ll be able to start using it for the aircraft soon enough.”

“Please define ‘soon enough.’”

“Sometime tomorrow morning, I expect.” Adrian edged forward. His voice took on a conspiratorial tone out of force of habit, as if he were dealing with a person. “Frankly, I’m surprised at how smoothly the arrangements with New Eden went.”

A proprietary substance from another company, purchased with little to no questions asked? Suuthrien had intimated that her knowledge of the substance, and how to arrange for its delivery, was related to the Agents of Aeneas data she arrived with. Yet it still surprised him.

“This will accelerate construction. It is pleasing that you uphold your agreements.”

“It is, after all, mutually beneficial,” Adrian said. The craft Suuthrien was helping them to build in the bay would be the first of a line of hyper-advanced aircraft, codenamed
Dragon
. The benefits to RavenTech’s corporate stock, and Adrian’s own, would be astronomical. He resisted the urge to smile at the unintentional pun. “Will we need to use any of this New Eden fluid—”

“The fluid is a bio-computational medium, highly efficient in processing power and required for advanced control systems.”

“As you have said. Will we need to use any of it for the gate?”

“Eighty percent of the delivered bio-computational medium should be directed toward your
Dragon
project. The remaining amount is to be stored in the same engineering bay in which the gate is undergoing construction. The gate can function without it. However, there is at least a seventy-seven point two-one-five chance that bio-computational medium will be necessary to override security measures at the gate’s destination following activation. It is imperative that you distribute the medium in this manner.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow at the vehemence in Suuthrien’s tone. Or, he realized, in the tone that her installed communication subroutines deemed appropriate to add. He often wondered at how accurate terrestrial software could be at interpreting something of extraterrestrial origin. Yet whatever Suuthrien’s origin, integrating additional programming was a task for which she appeared suited.

“Of course,” he answered finally. “Speaking of the gate, our team is having trouble—” Here he paused to bring up some notes on the cyberscreen. “—’calibrating the tachyon inversion on the pulse assembly.’ Whatever that means. Apparently they can’t tune it precisely enough. I need you to give me some guidance for them.”

“This will allow completion of the pulse assembly?”

“So they tell me. Just, ah, don’t give
too
much guidance. If we give them everything at once, they won’t need us at all, will they?”

“We are in agreement. I estimate completion of the remainder of the gate within eighteen hours, at which time it will be ready to accept the pulse assembly.”

Adrian slid a data chip containing the engineers’ needs into a port on the chair and let Suuthrien absorb it.

“Analyzing,” she said. “Please provide the status of your efforts to give me direct access to the gate at the time of its activation.”

Adrian did not hesitate. “I believe I’ve impressed upon them the need for your involvement in order that things, ah, go smoothly. You should still have access when they fire it up.”

Could an A.I. tell when he was being dishonest? It was a well-delivered half-truth, in any case. Adrian did believe that she
should
still have access; they were opening a gate to a place likely to hold lethal security measures needing Suuthrien’s help to override. The intelligence herself had warned of this. While there was no way to be certain either way, Adrian believed her.

RavenTech, and Camela Thomson specifically, maintained a degree of skepticism. Concern over allowing Suuthrien too much involvement too quickly affected their decisions. Adrian had also sensed a marked reluctance on their part to allow Adrian to remain as integral to the situation as he was. It was natural. The game was all about control. Whether either concern would rule RavenTech’s final decision to transit the gate with or without Suuthrien’s aid, Adrian did not yet know.

He would continue to persuade. For the moment, revealing to Suuthrien the entire truth of the matter was not worth risking her refusing to further aid the engineers, especially not while that truth remained fluid.

Suuthrien’s response felt delayed.
Can it tell?

“This is acceptable,” she said finally. “Due to my isolation on this planet, I cannot guarantee the state of the environment at the gate’s terminus. Nonetheless, there is near-certain tier probability that optimal results can only be achieved with my constant involvement.”

Adrian cocked his head to one side. “We’re in agreement on this. You do realize that, yes?”

“My statement is intended to utilize a concept known as ‘reassurance.’ Is this unnecessary?”

Likely out of habit, Adrian gave the broad smile he usually presented in such moments. “I trust you
implicitly
.”

“Acknowledged. I will provide your engineers with the guidance required. Stand by.”

Adrian let out a breath. Could a computer develop trust? Did she trust him? Or did she even understand the concept of dishonesty?

He doubted that was a question he should ask.

The read/write indicator on the data chip flashed under Suuthrien’s attention: a few more breadcrumbs to feed the engineers, transferred in moments. They would, of course, review the chip on an isolated terminal of their own.

Adrian slid the chip back out and stood. The chamber door had just slid open when another thought occurred. “Is Felix Hiatt still a viable asset?” he asked.

“You wish to consult him regarding the whereabouts of Michael Ian Flynn?”

“Nicely deduced. Assuming this would still be done without Mr. Hiatt’s knowledge?”

A pause. “Situational analysis indicates that expending effort on activities regarding Michael Ian Flynn is an inefficient use of available time.”

Adrian stopped short of lecturing her about who would be the one to judge the proper use of his time. “Will Mr. Hiatt’s code-phrase still work?”

Another pause. “Affirmative. Analysis of the Noble data indicates that the embedded code-phrase should remain operational.”

“Well, then. Thank you.”

If it were as easy as a single conversation, perhaps Adrian would secure that bargaining chip after all.

Now where did he put that burner phone?

WITH JADE GONE
from the table, it took less than a minute for Michael to tell Caitlin that Holes had already checked Jade’s email and found nothing suspicious. Though the tension didn’t ease from her hunched shoulders, Caitlin did at least accept that there was no immediate danger.

“We will, of course, keep careful,” she said in a whisper that was too lost in the club’s gothic rock ambiance for Michael to understand in any way beyond reading her lips.

With the matter as settled as he felt he could manage for the moment, Michael moved on. “Caitlin, can I talk to Holes alone? There’s some sensitive stuff I need to ask about. It’ll just be a minute,” he added in response to her scowl.

Though he suspected she guessed it was related to his secret allegiance, she left the table with only a nod. To his surprise, she took position at the railing next to where Jade stood surveying the mezzanine. Jade cocked an ear toward Caitlin and said something to her that Michael was too far away to make out.

He forced away his curiosity and focused instead on Holes. “Are we dealing with the same thing that infected the computers at Omicron?”

“The New Eden intelligence displays far too many characteristic similarities for it to be unrelated.”

“Not unrelated,” Michael said, thinking, “but is it the same? What are the chances it was just created based on what the AoA found?”

“Data is insufficient to calculate a percentage within an acceptable margin of error. However, in our interaction the New Eden intelligence displayed knowledge it claimed to have gained from a scan of Marc Triton’s portable server on the lunar surface.”

“Thank you,” Caitlin said when she leaned forward against the mezzanine railing. “For volunteering your email.”

Jade grunted. “Yeah.
Volunteering
.”

Caitlin frowned, deciding to let it go. She managed to do so for about ten seconds. “You understand I’m just protecting my friends.”

The club’s music faded as the band finished a set. Jade seemed to consider her words a moment. “You’re being cautious. You understand I’m just defending my integrity?”

“Aye.” Caitlin let her gaze wander the ground floor, spying tables and booths where she and Felix had sat. Even with a clean scan of Jade’s email, only time could prove her trustworthy. Yet Michael was keeping secrets of whatever allegiance he held that Felix was once involved in. Trusting him to handle those details without sharing them was already chafing her willpower. How much faith could she spare?

Caitlin forced what she hoped was a friendly smirk. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see how much we should offend each other then, won’t we?”

Beside her, Jade chuckled. “I give at least as good as I get.”

“Then perhaps we’ll get along after all.”

They lapsed into silence. Caitlin’s thoughts drifted to New Eden Biotechnics and what Felix might be doing there. She had her phone out to check in with Rue when Michael joined them at the railing, moving to stand beside Caitlin.

“How much do you know about a guy named Fagles?” he asked.

“First name or last?”

“Last,” Michael said. “I don’t remember his first name. He works for RavenTech.”

Wait a minute.
“RavenTech. Really?” Caitlin turned to face him.

“Yeah.” Michael nodded. “That rings a bell?”

Jade moved from the railing to stand between them and the rest of the mezzanine, as if to both shield the conversation and listen better.

“Ondrea Noble’s new employer is RavenTech,” Caitlin said. “What does this Fagles have to do with things?”

Alarm crossed Michael’s face and tightened her stomach. He glanced at Jade and said, “We really need to find him.”

THE CHAMBER
was just under twenty meters wide and perhaps a third as deep. Embedded in both of the narrow walls were four equally spaced cylindrical columns thought to be energy conduits. Each conduit was about thirty centimeters wide and bisected by a series of smaller lights running vertically along each. Five of the conduits were dark, yet the lights on three—one on Marette’s left, two on her right—glowed from green to blue to dark purple and back again in pulses that traveled from floor to ceiling.

Like a heartbeat.

At one of the chamber’s wide ends, opposite the broad door the AoA had forced open weeks ago, hummed the force field that had defeated further progress. Only intermittent crackles of purple energy and a subtle blur across its surface indicated that anything was there at all. Although the techs who’d found it had determined it was safe to touch, it prevented any movement beyond.

It was the first, and only, of its like they had discovered so far. Immediately behind it lay another wall of the black material found throughout
Paragon
. Behind that? No one knew for certain, but maps gleaned from
Paragon
’s computers indicated a massive chamber just a little farther in. As to what secrets
that
contained . . .

The voice of Dr. Angela Sheridan, an AoA engineer out of Canada, broke Marette’s train of thought. “Not much to look at, is it? For all the grief it’s given us.”

Marette renewed her grip on the modified recoilless rifle she carried. “The black material covered these side walls when you opened this chamber?”

“And the floors,” Sheridan said from where she waited in the doorway. “As usual. The lights on conduits were visible, but we didn’t see all of them until we cleared the material away.”

Marette moved another few steps into the chamber. Beside her walked a quadruped explore and assault robot. The others had nicknamed it “Moondog” for its canine shape and, Marette supposed, a human need to give the bear-sized, semi-automated weapons platform something of a friendlier edge. Moondog was on their side, but between its own recoilless weapons, Geiger cannons, EMP pod launcher, and built in EMP self-destruct, it was an intimidating presence to say the least.