Redemption Protocol (Contact) (73 page)

She felt herself tiring and decided to take a break before she bungled the sequence and got hurt. The instant she blinked back into consciousness in the library she received a message from Tyburn.

“Weaver, this is Tyburn. Havoc has destroyed the southern camp. He is working with the ORC to sabotage our mission. Furthermore, the United Systems are inbound to your position. We are coming to pick you up. Please exit the library and wait in a cabin for extraction to safety. See you in an hour. Be careful and stay safe. See you soon.”

Thoughts rushed through Weaver’s mind. She was doubtful that anyone else, from any civilization, would have been able to access the information that she had about the Diss and the Scepters. She knew the location of a targeting system for a weapon that could bring humanity to its knees. Technically, she should transmit the information to the
Intrepid
and reveal it to her Mission Lead and her fellow crewmates. Somehow, she doubted she would ever do that. If there was ever a real world equivalent to Pandora's Box, it was the control system for the Diss.

No one would ever miss what they didn't know, she thought.

She checked the time of Tyburn’s message. She didn’t have long.

She needed to get to the cabin for the pickup.

 189. 

Tyburn received an ORC communication request.

“Finally we get some recognition from the ungrateful bastard.”

Ekker grunted as he peered through the cockpit window. The shuttle sped over the surface toward the library.

Tyburn opened the channel to speak to Admiral Szabo. Szabo’s greeting was not what he expected.

“What the fuck is going on, General?”

“Could you please be more specific, Admiral?”

“Certainly. The pyramid was a disaster. We have no contact with the team there.”

“I'm not responsible for your team's performance, Comrade Admiral, only for removing the Alliance security. And you got your alien systems.”

“Ah yes, the four alien energy systems.”

“Four systems instead of five is still an excellent result, you must agree.”

“An excellent result, yes, until two kilometers from the shaft when our walkers and forty eight of my men were flattened by a billion tonnes of rubble.”

Tyburn grimaced. Disaster. Ekker glanced across with concern. The conversation was going downhill fast.

“Ah.”

“Ah, indeed, General. You give reasons but no results. We have many names for this behavior where I come from. None of them are good.”

Tyburn screwed up his face. He needed the ORC support.

“I will deliver the scientists who can unlock the alien technology for you, Admiral. I give my word.”

“Ah yes, your word again. Do not let me down this time, General.”

Szabo cut the connection.

Tyburn seethed.

“Fucking incompetents blaming me for their mistakes.”

“You think they’ll stay on side?”

Tyburn thought about the numbers.

“The ORC forces are heavily depleted. They might not be able to give us everything we need.”

Ekker shook his head.

“I can't fucking believe that Havoc managed to take out Intrepido.”

Tyburn blew the air from his lungs. The ORC funding was his movement's lifeblood. But nothing lasts forever.

“Havoc knows how to gain a victory but not how to use it. He's tactical, that's all. I'm the target. I'm fine with that. We just need to get the ORC some results. We need to get Weaver. And we need another option.”

Ekker highlighted a fast moving track en route to the library.

“What the hell is that?”

 190. 

Weaver left the library and bent forward into the blizzard.

She glanced over her shoulder at the gargantuan gate. She felt different to how she was when she'd gone in. In knowledge terms she'd deepened her understanding, surveying new worlds and technologies. But that wasn't the real change she felt. She felt different because of the challenge she'd faced.

Accessing the Aulusthran technology had real and serious consequences. She felt like she’d been tested, passed and grown as a result.

She thought about Kemensky. And Abbott, Jafari and Darkwood.

She leaned into the wind as she trudged over the ice. She entered the cabin and was retracting her visor when she received a transmission ping from Havoc.
Havoc?

She hesitated. Should she give away her position? She checked the time. Five minutes to pick up.

“Havoc?”

“Weaver I'm coming to get you. It's a complicated situation with some simple decisions to make. You're in danger. Tyburn is coming to pick you up. He wants to trade you to the ORC. I'm sure he's been in touch. He might have told you that I'm a threat. You need to choose. There are United Systems inbound, not far behind him. We don’t have long.”

Weaver felt startled.

“You’re coming here?”

“I'll be there in a minute. Forge won't be far behind me.”

Weaver’s eyes widened in fear. Havoc had referred to Tyburn as Forge, seamlessly, without even seeming to
notice
. Had he lost his mind?

And
in a minute
.
Shit.

She sealed her visor. She needed to think, and fast.

 191. 

“Weaver, it's Tyburn.”

“Uh huh?”

“We have a high speed track heading in your direction. It fits the profile of Havoc's aerial frame. It looks like he's going to take you and trade you to the ORC.”

“
Havoc
wants to trade me to the ORC?”

“He's been in touch?”

“Just now.”

“Weaver, the pyramid where Havoc ran security has been infiltrated and devastated. Havoc has just attacked and destroyed the southern base. He nuked it from space. Intrepido and Stone are presumed dead. You’re the last remaining Alliance asset for him to go after on the surface.”

“Then why would he warn me he's coming?”

“To gain your trust so you lower your guard. I bet he was worried you’d retreat to the library. Are you in the cabin now?”

Weaver looked around hesitantly.

Tyburn sounded impatient.

“Look, Weaver. Can you get to the library?”

“I could try. He said he’d be here any minute.”

“Great. Perfect.”

Weaver reached the lock when Tyburn spoke again.

“Weaver, wait. Damn. Damn it.”

Weaver stopped.

“What is it?”

“He’s landing. Look, if you're in the cabin then there’s a flare star in the weapon cabinet.”

“A what?”

“A one shot plasma weapon. If you're in the cabin, take it out and point it at the door. If Havoc comes for you then let him have it.”

Weaver looked around uncertainly.

“I don't think––”

“Weaver, I know you like Havoc but we don't have long. He's going to arrive any second. Listen carefully. This is Havoc talking to Chaucer, shortly before Chaucer apparently committed suicide. This recording is genuine. You can verify the coding with the
Intrepid
. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Tyburn streamed a recording to her. She heard Havoc's voice, menacing and dark. ‘Now you’re going to do exactly what I tell you.’ Chaucer responded, sounding terrified. ‘Alright.’ Havoc spoke again, savage and violent. ‘If you fuck with me, I’ll kill you, Chaucer, you understand?’

“You get that?” Tyburn said.

Weaver looked around her little cabin. She felt scared.

“Weaver?”

Weaver stared at the lock. Her hands were shaking.

“Oh God.”

“Weaver, the flare star is in the bottom cabinet. Just be ready to protect yourself, that's all I'm asking.”

 192. 

Havoc brought the aerial frame down toward the plaza away from the ice. He dropped out of the frame in mid-atmo while the aerial frame was on final approach. He flew around the wall of the Colosseum toward the cabins by the library.

“Weaver, you there?”

“Don't come near me, Havoc, I'm warning you.”

“What?”

“I know about Chaucer.”

“Chaucer?”

“You threatened him. Did you kill him?”

Havoc jetted over the ice.

“Chaucer was stealing Brennen's hytelline. He was a relapsed addict. Do you know another way to get an addict to give Brennen his painkillers if you're not there to watch him?”

“Oh you’re so clever, aren’t you?”

“Did they play it to you?”

“Yes.”

The cabin appeared, a glowing infrared blob in the swirl of the blizzard.

“I'm sorry for what happened, Weaver, but you haven’t got the full picture. It’s selective editing. I'll be there in a minute and we can talk about it. But Forge is coming and the United Systems is not far behind him. We really have to go.”

~    ~    ~

Weaver crouched in the back of the cabin holding the strange contraption in her hands. It was a round bottomed flask with a long flute surrounded by a myriad of pipes and cells. It looked like a chemistry vessel. She held it out in front of her, away from her body. It felt foreign and uncomfortable. She knew she couldn't shoot Havoc with it, but she would use it to defend herself while she talked to him.

Tyburn clicked on.

“Weaver, Havoc's coming for you. He'll be credible. Don't fall for it. Do
not
let him in.”

“I'm going to talk to him.”

There was a disapproving silence.

“Weaver, I'm transmitting your some highly classified Alliance intelligence. Look at it and decide.”

Tyburn transferred a file to her. There was a chime as someone opened the outer lock. Weaver gripped the strange weapon tightly and played the file in her mind’s eye.

It was surveillance footage, in perfect quality. Havoc held a man low by his side, forcing his head down none too gently. Two men ran round a corner and Havoc shot them. Havoc's face registered no emotion as the corpses collapsed to the floor. Havoc violently jerked the man he was holding upright.

In the cabin in front of her, the lock opened.

Weaver gasped.

The man was her father.

~    ~    ~

Havoc's breathing slowed. He'd made it. There was so much to tell Weaver and no time to tell it. He hoped the temperature in the library would be habitable for a day under Jötunn's glare. It was their best option.

The lock opened.

“Ok, Weaver, we need––”

He hadn't expected to be so surprised by his own death.

He was airborne, energy crackling around him, blowing out his systems and burning his suit away. His suit malfunctioned and his boot jets fired, launching him up and backward like a firework. He hurtled through the atmo, scrambling desperately to clear off the burning plasma and pulsing filaments. His body convulsed as powerful shocks racked him. His boot jets cut out and he plummeted down, flailing in the flare star.

He blacked out.

~    ~    ~

Weaver screamed as she pulled the trigger. Havoc was enveloped in a ball of boiling plasma. She couldn't believe the force of the weapon. The light seemed to consume Havoc. His suit flared and its jets fired. He rocketed up and backward, arcing into the sky. His arms flailed like a man trying to fight off a swarm of bees then abruptly stopped. He must have gone fifty meters. He crashed lifelessly into the ice.

Tyburn's voice clicked on.

“Well done. We're here, hovering by the tower. We're not landing. Come on, we need to go. We have the United Systems incoming.”

Weaver held the weapon, stunned. Havoc’s figure lay on the ice, inert. Flame flickered around the burning hole where the end of the cabin used to be.

“Come on, Weaver!”

“Shouldn't we check him?”

“It's an anti-infantry weapon, Weaver. He's dead. Come on, we've got seconds to get clear if the United Systems choose to engage.”

Weaver stepped through the remnants of the cabin doorway. She looked at Havoc's corpse for a second.

She threw down the weapon and ran into the blizzard.