Abysm (11 page)

“Now be a dear and get yourself on a transport to Romane, would you? I’m giving you the means to achieve your most fervent goal, so do try not to let the side down.”

Jude stormed down the long corridors of the EA Headquarters manor toward and finally through the side entrance. Even outside, however, he found no peace. People loitered everywhere: guards, aides, other staff, onlookers, tourists.

Rage boiled in his chest, and it took all of his willpower to not strike out, run or otherwise draw notice to himself.

He made it to the garage before the fury bubbled over and demanded an outlet. He picked up the trash sanitizer bin and hurled it across the lot with a guttural cry. It clattered and clanged across vehicle roofs and banged off columns.

The callous if minimal destruction he’d wrought gave him a brief respite, and he quickly made his way to his skycar. This was still EA government grounds, and the commotion he’d unleashed would soon be garnering attention.

He waited until he’d departed the garage and engaged the autopilot before screaming and banging his fists on the dash. How dare the twat insult him so? How dare she treat him as if he were worthless, vermin to be ordered around like the lowliest servant?

Didn’t she realize he could smash her face in and drag his fingers through the blood while he laughed? He could do it. Anytime he wanted.

His passions bounced from anger to shame to curiosity and back again. He’d been careful! There was no way she should have been able to find out about his involvement in OTS.

And how did she know the location of Dr. Canivon? None of the numerous people he’d tasked with the problem had been able to learn it. Admittedly, his mother had special means available to her: government resources, intelligence resources. The resources of the entire Earth Alliance infrastructure, save what Admiral Solovy controlled—

His reeling thoughts screeched to a halt. What was it she had said? Mia Requelme was the most dangerous Prevo
outside our control
. The irrefutable implication was that there were Prevos under ‘our’ control. The government’s control. Her control.

She had spies inside the Prevo network. Inside their Noesis.

He recoiled at the idea of working with one of those abominations. But if one found a way to tolerate it, if one had a way to keep it on a leash…he was forced to admit it would be a useful tool. Clearly it had been, if it had netted his mother such prized information.

Pamela Winslow laid claim to no soul that he had ever seen. She had no precepts beyond the attainment and retention of power, no driving principle to believe in and devote her life to. He resented her on good days, hated her on bad ones, yet in some respects he also felt sorry for her.

But he did have a driving principle, and if using her resources enabled him to achieve his goals? Two could play this game.

Emboldened and renewed by righteous purpose, he diverted to the spaceport.

9

ROMANE

IDCC
C
OLONY

C
ALEB ACCOMPANIED
N
OAH
and Kennedy out of the hangar bay and down to the levtram station. He’d spent the last hour of the trip to Romane getting properly caught up; unlike Alex, he hadn’t been able to download all the events of the last several months into his brain on their arrival.

When they reached the station, he promised to come visit the Connova Interstellar offices in the morning and bid them farewell.

He returned to the
Siyane
to find Alex sitting quietly on the couch. Her elbows were on her knees and her hands were fisted together under her chin. She didn’t look up when he stepped inside.

Was she gone already, escaping to her other, more fantastical realm the instant her social duties were fulfilled?

But this wasn’t the stance she usually exhibited when she was inhabiting the ship. Her posture wasn’t slack, and the muscles along her shoulders cut taut lines to the curve of her neck.

“What’s wrong?”

He could see her throat work. “Come sit down.” Her voice was flat and soft. But it often was these days.

He did as instructed, sitting beside her and tilting his head to try to catch a glimpse of her expression. “I’m here.”

Her gaze remained directed at the floor; she’d yet to look at him since he’d entered the cabin. “There’s something you need to see. Caleb, I…I’ll simply send you the file. You can read it, then….” There was no end to the sentence, no hint of what might happen ‘then.’

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been forewarned returning home was going to bring with it multiple new challenges.

The file arrived in his eVi. Some of the particulars were outdated, but he immediately recognized it was of Federation government origin. Multiple security layers had been stripped away. He steeled himself and opened it.

Operation Colpetto

October 2297

…

“That’s all there is…no more information or details are available. Morgan searched hard because, well, her mother….”

He blinked, gradually realizing there had been sounds around him. Something had transpired. Words had been uttered. “I’m sorry—” His voice cracked; he cleared his throat. “Did you say something?” Whatever it was hadn’t penetrated the deafening roar of his blood pounding through the pathways of his body.

“Caleb, you—”

He surged upward off the couch. “I need to be alone for a while. But there isn’t any goddamn place to be alone on the ship, is there?” He grabbed his jacket from where he’d tossed it minutes earlier. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Alex exhaled. “I don’t—”

He held up a finger. “Save it. Whatever you want to throw at me, you can throw it when I get back. In an hour.”

Then he spun and left.

“Caleb, hurry up and finish your eggs. You need to leave for school in five minutes.”

His mind had been drifting, but now he cocked his head at his mom. “Why? Class doesn’t start for an hour.”

“You’re walking your sister to her school first this morning, remember? I have a meeting with the Tellica Planning Board and don’t have time to drop her off.”

Crap. He dug back into his breakfast but, remembering where his mind had drifted, peered at his dad over his fork. “Dad, what do you think about the war?”

His dad glanced at the news feed on the wall, where the latest developments scrolled in a never-ending loop. “I think we deserve our freedom. I wish the Alliance had agreed to give it to us without the need for fighting. It’s unfortunate that people have to give their lives for us to win it.”

“Do you think we will win it? The Alliance military is huge. I know we have some allies, but it will be hard to defeat them, won’t it?”

His dad nodded. “It will be. But we have one big advantage: motivation. We have a reason to fight, one that matters.”

“Three minutes, Caleb,” his mother shouted over her shoulder as she fussed with Isabela’s clothes and pack in the foyer.

He straightened up his posture. He was getting taller, but his dad had a few centimeters on him. “I’ve been giving it some thought, and if the war’s still going on when I turn seventeen, I want to join up.”

His dad’s face contorted into something resembling panic. “You won’t be of age for almost three years. I’m sure it will all be settled before then.”

“I know. I’m saying if it
is
still going on.”

“Son…Caleb…I don’t want you to have to fight this war. I didn’t…it’s not your war to wage. Let others choose to die for the cause.”

“I didn’t say I was going to
die
. I bet I’d be a good soldier.”

“You’d be an excellent—” his dad pinched the bridge of his nose “—you shouldn’t be required to be a soldier at all. You’re destined for better things, greater things. This war is being fought so you’ll have the opportunity to achieve them. Others are fighting…dying…so you can have that chance without needing to risk your own life for it.”

“Caleb!”

He scowled in the direction of the hallway. “Why should I let other people fight—and die—for me?”

“Because you’re my son!” His dad grimaced and lowered his voice. “Go see to your sister. Don’t make your mother be late for her meeting. And stop thinking this way. The war will be over soon, and you won’t need to worry about it at all.”

But of course it wasn’t over soon. The First Crux War stretched on for more than two years, until three months before his seventeenth birthday. Ten months later his father left, then died.

And now he understood why his father had been so hung up on other people dying in the war. Because he’d kicked it off by killing a few of them.

The leaders of the nascent Senecan Federation rebellion—Eleni Gianno, Aristide Vranas, Darien Terzi—had tasked his father with sneaking behind enemy lines in a stealthed reconnaissance craft. When Alliance ships had blockaded Seneca, a confrontation had been engineered. His father’s ship, equipped with a copycat Alliance cruiser weapon, shot down a civilian transport in such a way that made it appear as if the lead Alliance vessel, the
EAS Fuzhou
, fired the shot.

No, not his father’s
ship
. His father. Helena Lekkas, Morgan’s mother, had piloted the craft, but his father had taken the fateful shot. Seventeen civilians lost their lives in a ploy to paint the Alliance as the aggressors, incite a controversy and galvanize sympathy for the rebellion.

Caleb meandered through downtown, no destination in mind. When he reached the next alley he veered down it and punched a building façade for good measure, then stuck his bloodied hand in his jacket pocket and continued on.

How many more revelations were out there lurking in the darkness, waiting to ambush him just when he’d come to terms with the last one? So his father had secretly been an intelligence agent. Fine. Acknowledged and accepted. But a murderer?

Caleb had killed on orders from his government many times, but never,
ever
innocent civilians. It was always possible he had caused collateral damage here and there, but
never
on purpose, never with malice aforethought.

Was he a hypocrite? Did he have any right to judge, considering the copious blood permanently staining his hands? If it had been him on that ship, would he have done it?

He couldn’t see how. He may have killed a lot of people, but he didn’t kill innocents. He protected them. Though he hadn’t lived through it, he had to believe there would’ve been another way.

He looked up and realized he was in front of IDCC Headquarters. And he’d stopped walking. He didn’t take the time to second-guess himself before heading inside and riding the lift up.