EVE®: Templar One (30 page)

“We’re going to find out what those are and what role they played in this,” President Roden said.
“Mr.
Blaque, do you think we can do that?”

“As long as that Imperial fleet doesn’t know we’re there, yes,” he answered.
“We could send a Black Eagles recon squad down.
But if they make contact, they’ll need orbital support to get out safely.”

“We can do that, provided the Amarrians don’t bring more firepower,” Admiral Freeman said.
“If they get support, I can’t promise we’ll be able to get our big guns low enough to help.”

“Send them in anyway,” President Roden ordered.
“As soon as possible.”

“For what, exactly?”
Grand Admiral Ranchel demanded.
“What’s the mission?”

“To learn exactly what happened there,” President Roden said.
“To recover any items of interest and report on any developments.”

“Did it ever occur to you we might not get these men back?”
Admiral Ranchel asked.
“The Amarr have secured the colony; they have a space elevator to bring anything they want to the surface, and an entire goddamn fleet overhead.
Sending covert ops is a waste of lives and resources.”

“Your concerns are noted,” President Roden said.
“Mr.
Blaque, send your commandos in.
We’ll do as much as we can to support them, up to and including engaging the Amarr in space and on the surface.”

Grand Admiral Ranchel opened his mouth to protest again, but Jacus cut him off.

“Stop questioning my orders,” he said, raising his hand.
“Your job is to make them happen, not whine about them.
Get it done, or I’ll find someone else who can.”

“Should we inform the Minmatar government?”
Ariel asked.

President Roden turned toward her, his green eyes aglow.

“Absolutely
not.
”

GENESIS REGION—SANCTUM CONSTELLATION

THE YULAI SYSTEM—INNER CIRCLE TRIBUNAL STATION

SOVEREIGNTY OF THE CONCORD ASSEMBLY

“Well, well,” Tibus Heth started.
“To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

The dictator had aged visibly since the war began.
He was no capsuleer, and thus more vulnerable to the passage of time than the other national leaders.
As much as this endeared him to the mortal masses of the Caldari, it bespoke a subtle weakness.
Rumors were circulating that his health was deteriorating—slowly, but steadily—due to something that could be cured, if only he would allow himself to be cloned.
Focusing on the man’s face, the Inner Circle members all projected similar thoughts: Heth was a short-term problem, and of all possibilities the least of their worries insofar as protecting humanity was concerned.

“Mr.
Heth, thank you for making the time to speak with us,” Director Angireh started.

“Is that you, Irhes?”
Tibus asked.
“You know how I’d prefer to see your lovely face.”

“Transparency isn’t one of our virtues,” she said.
“I’m sure you appreciate that.”

“I’ve always counted on it,” Heth said.
“It makes the game so much more interesting.
What can I do for you today?”

“Mr.
Heth,” she said, sternly this time.
“You’re aware that the development of capsuleer technology is illegal according to CONCORD law.”

“Director, I find it admirable that you have the balls to say that,” Tibus said.
“Unfortunately, it also speaks volumes about your misperceptions on just how much influence CONCORD really has.”

“I assure you, Mr.
Heth, that our perceptions are exactly where they need to be,” Irhes said.
“More importantly, the point of this call is to commend you for complying with this law.”

“I assure you, Irhes, that any ‘compliance’ you’re aware of just happens to align with the State’s interests,” Heth said with a smile.
“But only a fool would believe that my international colleagues are doing the same.”

“We act in humanity’s best interests, which by default includes the State’s best interests and your own,” Irhes said.

“I
love
your audacity!”
Heth laughed.
“It reminds me so much of myself.”

“Normally we don’t interfere in the politics of assembly nations,” Irhes continued.
“But, again, because of your compliance with law, we thought we’d share some information that concerns you and the Directorate.”

“Oh, by all means, let’s hear it,” Heth said.

“We have information from a reliable source that your next cabinet meeting has become the target of a military strike,” Irhes said.

Heth laughed again.

“Imagine!”
he mocked.
“When hasn’t it been?”

“Yes, the locations of these meetings are a closely guarded State secret,” Irhes said.
“So much so that we know your next one is in the Tsukuras system.”

Heth’s arrogance evaporated.

“If that’s what your intel says, then—”

“On the planet Myoklar,” Irhes added, enjoying the moment.
“Now, what are the odds of us guessing that?”

The dictator didn’t say a word.

“We know the meeting isn’t for several days,” Irhes continued.
“You might consider exploring your security options beforehand.”

“This is wonderful,” Heth finally said.
“I’m curious to learn where you get your information.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Irhes said.
“On behalf of the Inner Circle, DED, and CONCORD, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for your continued support and cooperation.
We look forward to strengthening our alliance with the Caldari State as partners in the mandate to protect humanity from the abuses of immortality.
Good day, Mr.
Heth.”

The transmission ended with the angry face of the Caldari dictator staring back at them.

“Brilliant,” Tatoh said.
“Absolutely well played.”

“That’s the power of information for you,” Irhes said.
“I think we have a steadfast ally in the Caldari State now.
Heth is so scared of his own shadow that he’ll cooperate fully.”

“Assuming THANATOS was right,” Esoutte said.
“Which we can never know.”

“Oh, it was right.
Trust me on that one,” Tatoh scoffed, then paused as the imagery above them abruptly disappeared.

The THANATOS report arrived from Pike’s Landing, and the remaining meeting agenda was instantly cleared.
Recorded footage of the battle taken by the agent, along with her tactical assessments and a particular focus on the strange armored trucks scattered throughout the colony, danced overhead.

Irhes spoke first, the letters and words forming in the air for all to see:

>> THANATOS DIRECTIVE—TIER-1 PRIORITY—WITH IMMEDIATE EFFECT:

>> NEW ORDERS

>> PRIMARY OBJECTIVES:

— CAPTURE PROTOTYPE SOLDIER TECHNOLOGY INTACT.
RETURN PHYSICAL SPECIMEN TO YULAI.

— ELIMINATE ALL WITNESSES OR INTERFERING PARTIES.

>> OPERATIONAL RESTRICTIONS:

— NONE.
ALL DIPLOMATIC RESTRAINTS REMOVED.

>> SECONDARY OBJECTIVE:

— DESTROY ALL REMAINING TECHNOLOGY.

>> END DIRECTIVE

There was silence in the chamber.

“Any objections?”
Irhes asked finally.

“Director, we’re too
late,
” Tara said.
“Why do this now?”

“The mandate decrees we’re well within our right to confiscate illegal technology,” Irhes repeated.
“We discussed this.”

“The mandate doesn’t give us the right to assassinate people!”
Tara protested.
“You’re going to destroy New Eden’s faith in CONCORD!”

“No,” Tatoh said.
“This is going to restore it.”

PURE BLIND REGION—MDM8-J CONSTELLATION

SYSTEM 5ZXX-K—PLANET V, MOON 17

MORDU’S LEGION HQ STATION

The list of contracts was long and exhausting to look at.

One by murderous one, Mordu worked through the night to review them, often checking directly with on-site field captains to either share a laugh or issue a stern reprimand.
His attention to detail was both meticulous and ruthless.
He held every operative of the Legion responsible for fulfilling the terms of an agreement signed in blood and redeemable with hard currency.

There were no easy decisions.
With the flick of a finger he signed off on a contract to field twelve thousand crew and officers for several newly commissioned Federation battleships assigned to a capsuleer militia.
The expected survival rate for the mission was about 30 percent.

The next one required a company-size unit of mercenaries to put down a rebellion on a space-elevator construction project in the Geminate region.
Civilian casualties were predicted to reach 60 percent.

On it went into the night, this madness of reconciling lives, money, and risk.
And finally, as the last and most important contract of the evening appeared on his screen, Mordu opened his second bottle of whiskey.

For this one, his own blood was on the line.
The redeemable currency was the assassination of a dictator and the prelude to a civil war.

The contract issuer, Haatakan Oiritsuu, was in Mordu’s own words, “most irritating bitch of a nuisance to mankind since the EVE Gate collapsed.”
Yet there was a time, in his younger, wilder days, when those qualities were strangely irresistible to him: a destructive love-hate relationship that was more of a twisted hormonal fetish than anything resembling true romance.
It was the allure of power, he knew, that kept them coming back to each other.

Back then, she was a young and promising executive in the most prestigious mega-corporation of the Caldari State, and he was a shadowy mercenary who answered to no one.
No risk was too great for either one.
They demanded each other’s professional services in the field and in the bedroom—over and over, as he recalled.
Violence was what turned them on, and for a time they were thrilled to leave each other bloodied, richer, more powerful, and never fully satisfied, always craving for more.

But that was a time Mordu reflected upon with regret.

Despite repeatedly warning her not to, he expected her to call; and she did, despite the fact that Heth’s minions were lurking within earshot at all times.
But that was classic Haatakan: Making people feel uncomfortable was physically stimulating for her.
It’s what made her a ruthless mega-corporate executive, even in exile.

He knew that she would probably notice he’d been drinking, and decided he was fine with that.

“I know a secret, Mordu,” she started.
“Shame on you for not telling me.”

“Now probably isn’t the best time, Haatakan.”

“You’re sending your own son to do this?”
she demanded.
“I’m flattered.”

“I’ll need to have a word with whomever gave you that information,” he said, typing a notation in the contract notes.
“But the truth is that he’s sending himself.”

“Isn’t he a little old to try living up to the expectations of his father?”
she asked.
“Or is he doing it because he knows you don’t want him to?”

“The only expectation I’ve ever had for him was to follow his own path,” Mordu said.
“Let’s try to keep this on topic.
Do you have any last questions before we begin?”

“That’s great advice considering what you do for a living,” she mocked.
“I’m sure he’ll turn out to be a fine sociopath.”

“That’s enough, Haatakan.”

“Telling him to ‘follow his own path’—what the hell is that?”
she mocked.
“You don’t have a soul, Mordu.
If you did, I would own it.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with that.”

“Ha!
I
know
you regret that we don’t have a life together,” she said.
“Admit it, old man.”

“Let me think for a moment.
No.”

“You’re drunk again, aren’t you!
Still numbing the guilt of murdering by the dozen every day?”

“Yes, but then I’m not speaking to plants now, am I?”