Abysm (25 page)

23

ROMANE

IDCC
H
EADQUARTERS

“
F
ANTASTIC!”

Caleb’s attention swung to Mia at the exclamation, but her voice dropped to a hush as she queried whoever she was talking to, denying him further hints as to the reason for it.

He’d spent much of the time since the riots here at IDCC Headquarters—wanting to protect Mia, wanting to protect them all, wanting to avenge the deaths and near-misses which had occurred. Wanting to be anywhere but the ship.

He hadn’t talked to Alex in hours, and she’d been almost totally uncommunicative in the hours before then. She was presumably on the
Siyane
. In the
Siyane
. Was the
Siyane
. If there remained a difference.

He needed to run from the unwelcome thoughts, so he stepped closer to Mia in hopes of eavesdropping.

“Harper, did you get the info—right, Morgan told you. I don’t know why I bother. Can we move on the location quickly? They could scatter at any moment. Terrific. Oh, hang on, more details are incoming.”

There was a notable pause.

“It’s
WHO
?”

Caleb strode into the IDCC armory to find Harper and her team suiting up and checking over their gear.

She looked sideways at him while she latched a daisy chain of grenades to her belt. “I won’t even attempt to argue. But at least put on a tactical vest, and try to follow orders.”

He nodded agreement and headed to the armor cabinet, where he found a vest that fit on the second try. He was donning it when Harper cleared her throat.

“Everyone, this is Caleb Marano.
Allegedly
former Senecan Federation intelligence, though I’m not sure I buy it. I’ve seen his work firsthand, and trust me when I tell you he can dispose of enemy combatants with far more finesse and efficiency than any of you ever dreamed of. Hopefully he’ll toe the line, but if he’s moving, take my advice and don’t get in his way.”

He shrugged and pulled his overshirt back on over the vest. “I’m just here to help. You’re in charge.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I am.” Then she climbed up on a bench in the center of the room. “Weapons check.”

The roll call came in. “Gear check.” Same.

“Pello, with me for heavy weapons. Everyone else, meet at the transport in five.”

He caught up with her as she headed down the rear hallway. “What sort of heavy weapons are you taking?”

She glanced over her shoulder with cool, cautious eyes. “Marano, I meant what I said in there. I respect your skills and your determination, and I’m frankly a little relieved to have them at my disposal on this mission. However, I don’t recall those skills involving the use of heavy weapons—I suspect you’re more of an up close and personal kind of guy.

“So get to the transport and let me do my job. In return, I promise I’ll let you do…some of yours.”

His steps slowed; he dropped back and let her disappear around the corner. He might have smarted at the dressing down, but she was right. If heavy weapons worked to clear the place, then fine, but if not he’d be in the hallways and shadowy corners taking care of the enemy himself.

He shifted direction and headed for the transport.

R
OMANE

Harper paced rapidly across the front of the transport cabin as they lifted off. “The building has two main entrances and one service entrance. We’re going to trap the service entrance, split into two teams and simultaneously breach both main entrances. Commander Lekkas and Mr. Naissan will be providing aerial support, and Romane Tactical is setting up a perimeter in the event someone slips the net.

“We don’t have good intel on the number of people inside, but the building is listed as unoccupied so we can assume they’re all OTS. They would have run off any squatters when they took it over. Therefore, we—”

Caleb, tell Harper to back off. I’m going to take care of these bastards.

He jerked—visibly, something he generally tried not to do. He’d been deep in mission prep mode and, in a very rare occurrence these last days,
not
thinking about Alex. Now she was in his head.

What are you talking about?

The safe house is near the Exia Spaceport. I’m on my way and will beat you there. You don’t need to risk your life, nor does the RRF squad. I’ll eliminate the safe house.

And by ‘I,’ you mean you in the body of the
Siyane
.

Of course.

Alex, it’s still you. I have to believe it’s still you when you’re in the ship. And you’re not a cold-blooded killer. Don’t do this.

They killed Abigail. They tried to kill Mia, Devon, all of us. They deserve it.

They do, but not by your hand. Let us handle it.

He immediately cringed. If she remained Alex in any real way, it had been the wrong thing to say.

No need. They will all be dead before you get there.

Alex, please.

But she was gone, had shut him out.

He let out a long, weighty breath. It felt like the end, like the tolling of the dirge.

He buried the emotions which flared as much as he could, telling himself it was only for the duration of the mission. But a dark, hollow heaviness settled over him as he stood and went up to Harper. “We have a complication.”

The message arrived via pulse on Jude’s most secure personal comm channel.

The IDCC has acquired intel on the location of the safe house. Relocation may be advisable.

His mother had her spies in the Noesis and everywhere else, but he wasn’t without his own resources. The news was disappointing, but not particularly surprising.

His intention had been to remain here until Romane authorities decreased the security alert level and fewer police patrolled the streets and spaceports, but in truth he had stayed too long by half. The message merely confirmed it.

He would have to take his chances among the public. If worse came to worst, once he was a couple of blocks away from the safe house he could give his name and profess ignorance of anything problematic. The Romane government may not care for his mother, but it had to respect her authority.

He glanced around with feigned casualness at the other people in the upstairs room, which had become the unofficial command and triage center. They included most of the operational leadership of the Romane cell of OTS—those who hadn’t been out on the streets and gotten caught in the dragnet arrests.

They had spent the day working feverishly to secure the release of as many of those arrested as possible, to catalogue the dead and to plan for the future.

Good soldiers, giving their all in the hope of a better, freer tomorrow for humanity.

But there would be no such tomorrow if Jude were captured tonight.

He waited until no one was looking in his direction, then slipped out the door and hurried downstairs toward the rear exit.

24

SIYANE

R
OMANE

T
HE NIGHT AIR FELT
like a living organism all its own.

So close to the ground the atmosphere was saturated with molecules, and they were being pushed and pulled and transmuted by ships and shuttles and structures of metal radiating energy, churning power and sending it out in waves through the air. Flying through it felt invasive, savage.

Alex, stop. Turn around and go back to the hangar.

Her target lay at 27°, 4.6 kilometers distant. Though only six stories high, the structure occupied a block and was separated from other buildings by thoroughfares. This would minimize collateral damage.

The guilty pay, the innocent live. The reckoning of the universe at work. She was simply the messenger.

These people killed Abigail. Don’t you want vengeance, Valkyrie?

No. I said it after her murder, and now I will say it again: I want to mourn.

The environment ahead and beneath her—streets, airlanes, people—screamed back at her, noisy and raucous, but objectively she recognized it was far calmer than before. The fires had been quelled, the physical violence restrained.

Still, the city was on edge, waiting for the next blow.

Then I will take your vengeance for you.

I can disconnect you. Send you back to your body and fly the ship to the hangar myself.

You can, but you won’t. After what happened at the Amaranthe portal you fear the effect such a jarring act will have on my neural cohesion. You won’t disconnect me while I’m this deep in your processes, in the quantum clusters of the ship, conscious and aware. Besides, I don’t need to be inhabiting the ship to fire its weapon.

Could you honestly fire on these individuals from the cockpit chair, in your fragile, tangible, human body?

I’ve fired on enemies before.

Enemies who were actively trying to harm you. Caleb is correct, I believe. Could you initiate the slaughter yourself if you were wholly and only you?

She paused, felt the air bounce around her in agitation.

It doesn’t matter.

The OTS safe house came in range. The streets framing it were quiet, most of its windows dark. Just an ordinary building.

Before Valkyrie managed to seed more doubts, she fired.

The distance from laser weapon to target was markedly shorter than anything she’d previously experienced. Crossed in a blink of time, the collision of energy with façade created enough force to send her perception ricocheting away. Destruction in pure form, and not solely elemental.

Real. Physical. Primal.

Her mind recoiled, but she tried to focus on the molecules of fire created—oxygen, carbon dioxide, nitrogen oxidizing into flame, photons escaping, ionized gases transforming to plasma. She watched them leap and dance across the sky.

Then she created more.

A flicker moved in the space where a window hung an instant earlier. A face, stark with terror, screaming for help.

But she’d already fired again, already delivered the kilojoules which now caused the building to begin to crumble.

The face vanished in a rising plume of carbon, metal oxides and amorphous silica. Smoke. It didn’t reach her, but she choked on it nonetheless.

She fled down the quantum pathways and opened her eyes with a gasp. “Take over—” But Valkyrie had done so hundreds of microseconds earlier.

The face would have belonged to a terrorist. A callous murderer of innocents. It might have been the
pizda sranuyu
Jude Winslow himself.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.