Tears of Kerberos (13 page)

“There’s more, they are warning that several militant monotheistic groups are planning something major and they think genetic manipulation will play a big part in it. Raids on laboratories on the Confederate Research Stations have shown collusion between some of the top biologists, one of whom has been selling data to a terrorist group.”

“We could have used this information weeks ago before this started,” said a very irritable Captain Hardy.

General Rivers read down the information on the datapad until he came to the last section of text. “It says all traffic from AC has been halted and any ships en route to Proxima have been turned around. A general quarantine alert for the Proxima System has been put into effect until the crisis is resolved.”

“I don’t understand, Admiral, why are they blocking us?” the Captain asked.

“It is simple. Until the contamination is halted in the home System, they want to shield us from any fallout. They are assuming of course that nothing will have happened here.”

“A fat lot of good that will do us now. We are already facing a potential civil war between the colonies here if we don’t resolve the situation quickly. What worries me is how much better or worse are they faring compared to here? If you ask me I think Proxima is taking a hell of a beating right now. We’ve had hijackings, satellite occupation, capital ship engagement and now a full-scale ground war on Prime. How can it get any worse?”

“ You’re making a joke I assume, General?” said the Admiral sternly. “As I’m sure you are aware, the situation can always get worse!”

The General looked a little uncomfortable at the rebuking before changing the subject. “How long ago was the message sent?”

“Sixty-two days. Anything could have happened since then, hell the entire System could be overrun with Zealots and in the middle of a full-scale colonial war. We need information and we need it fast!” She turned to her communications officer.

“Lieutenant, check the relay link to Fleet HQ on Terra Nova!”

The officer flicked a few buttons and then scanned the various frequencies used by the communication facilities throughout the stations and ships of the Fleet. At first it appeared everything was normal, then the officer realised something wasn’t right. He tried a few more channels but they were all the same. Moving his hand across the screen he added various filters to the data streams but nothing changed the seemingly random nature of the noise. He turned back with a look of surprise on his face.

“Sir, nothing, just static. It’s like the signal is being jammed with digital noise. Every single channel is the same, from the main feed down to the wideband data streams. I’ve tried clearance filters and noise reduction and the system can’t find anything.”

“So whatever is going on at Terra Nova, Admiral, we can assume they will not be sending us any help?”

“Quite possibly. Either way, General, with no communications, intelligence or supplies we’re pretty much on our own.”

Admiral Jarvis examined her tactical display as she checked on the status of the systems and ships scattered through the Proxima System. She turned to her communications and tactical officers.

“I want a full update on the readiness of all Confed units in the entire System. I need to know the status of every single ship, transports, supplies, stations and personnel. Make sure you include Army and Auxiliary vessels, include everything!”

General Rivers turned and spoke to one of the armed guards before turning back to the Admiral.

“I’ll get my field commanders to gather reports on all our units and outposts.”

Admiral Jarvis looked at the display zooming out to view the whole System. Coloured dots indicated friendly vessels, lines and discs showed the various shipping lanes and orbits. A flashing circle showed where the CCS Wasp was located around the planet of Prime. Although many of the vessels were centred on Prime, many more were scattered about the System. She started to count them but gave up once she had reached fifty ships of destroyer class or larger.

Up until now most of the ships in action were being used in ad-hoc formations to conduct limited operations. If this campaign were to go on any longer she would need to establish a number of new fleets and squadrons based on the assets available in the System.

“We’re on our own here and we need to start planning for a long campaign,” she said quietly to herself as she worked out the optimum placement for the vessels.

* * *

Johnson had been sat at his desk for the last two hours and was having a hard time trying to extract the data from the recovered datapad. Normally he would have handed in the evidence but with the way things were looking right now in Yama, the capital of the colony, he would rather keep it to himself. On one of the video screens to his right he had three feeds running. Two were general aggregate lists of news and reports, the third was a live signal direct from the Parliament Building in the centre of the city. There were always areas of competition between the colonies, but from the rhetoric on the floor of the house he was noticing a trend between the conservative religious parties and those of the ruling liberal coalition. There had already been a failed vote by the opposition to send peacekeepers to Prime to halt the Confed forces in their counteroffensive to clear the colony of Avagana.

Johnson turned back to the datapad and the data he had already extracted onto his computer. At first glance the data cartridges appeared to be blank, but examination under his forensic tools had reveal multiple hidden partitions behind the actual wiped data. It was a clever ruse and would stand up to most examinations. Moving the data to his computer had required him to disable several of his own firewalls but it was a risk worth taking. As he moved some of the data to a secure section of his computer system he heard someone approaching. With a deft flick he moved the data and slid over a virtual folder that contained mugshots over the top. He turned to see Agent Petoskey stood over his shoulder.

“You seen the news?” he asked.

Johnson double-checked his screen before turning to the man.

“Yeah, I’ve got the live feeds running here,” he replied as he pointed to the displays.

“Right, you see what the Confeds have been doing? Just got a report that they are attacking civilians with strike planes. Bastards!”

Johnson could feel the question inside the statement. Petoskey was one of the many nationalistic Kerberons who seemed to hate anything off-world. The only thing worse than the Primes to them was the long arm of the Confederate armed forces getting involved in the business of the Kerberos Intelligence Unit. He had no illusions that as a member of Confed Naval Intelligence, seconded to the local unit, his life would be in serious jeopardy if Petoskey suspected he was anything other than a Kerberon loyalist.

“Yeah, a bloody business. Bet you’re glad you’re not on the exchange programme with Prime, right?” he laughed.

“You’re right there!” replied Petoskey as he turned back and walked along the open plan office.

Johnson glanced again before returning to his computer screen. Luckily the data was hidden but a small icon bobbed up and down along the corner of the screen. He gave a quick glance around the office before tapping it to expand a message from one of his old contacts in the Defence Department. He didn’t waste time with extended niceties, he’d sent his contact a message almost an hour ago saying he needed to call in a favour. This was it. With a twist of his right hand he selected positions of the encoded data and dropped it into an encrypted container and sent it to his contact. A single message popped up telling him to wait. Johnson didn’t like this part. The longer it took, the longer there was for somebody to notice what he was up to. Voices came from further inside so he increased the volume on his screens and turned to watch the news from Prime. Along the scrolling ticker it said the video link was from a fishing vessel moored half a kilometre from the shoreline of Avagana. The camera zoomed in to show lines of people in their hundreds waiting to be taken away by small boats. Two strike aircraft blasted past and a cry ran up through the passengers as they ducked to avoid the backwash and possible fire. Nothing happened and the craft simply rushed out along the horizon before disappearing from view.

Beep. A low tone indicated another message had arrived, it was his contact. According to the message it said the data was an agenda for a meeting due to take place on one of the stations along the Rim. Only one person was named.

“Typhon?” said Johnson below his breath, he had heard of this man, though from memory there was little known outside of his almost mythical status.

Johnson brought up a secure terminal screen and checked his security database for all information relating to the man known as Typhon. The first page to be found was related to the most recent mention of the man at a rally on Prime. Supporters of the Church of Echidna had placed a plaque at a bombsite in honour of the man bit it had been removed almost immediately. The name appeared to have been mentioned at several other terrorist sites on the planet where it had been used as a chant.

He scrolled through the information till he reached a file from an informant in one of the state owned mines on Avagana. It said a meeting had been attended by known members of the Crimson Brothers, a left wing radical organisation with links to trade unions throughout the seven colonies of Prime. They had originally been one of the smaller unions but after the riots they had split off and become radicalised. The meeting had been convened to plan an attack on the rail system in the name of Typhon and his holy mission.

“Holy mission?” asked Johnson before realising how loudly he had spoken. He looked around, no one was paying any attention.

He refined his search parameters but could find nothing related to the mission, other than some snippets about the darkness beyond the Rim and something else about preparing for the mission. A series of death threats had been received five months ago to the Trade Ministry from a group purporting to be the Yama Defence League. He pulled up another page that described the group. They were a far-right street protest movement which opposed the spread of the Church of Echidna, Church law and Zealot extremism on Prime and Kerberos.

Johnson leaned back in his chair. It was odd, there seemed to be a good number of groups on Kerberos, some with grievances against the state with others more interested in interfering with each other’s business. Prime had become the physical battleground of the troubles but it looked like Kerberos was becoming much the same only in a more clandestine and sinister way.

A message popped up, indicating that the rest of the data had been decrypted. He read it carefully. Most of it made little sense as it contained several quotes from scriptures but one but was of great interest. There was mention of a meeting between the factions, and even more importantly, it stated it would be held by Typhon and his children.

“Holy crap!” exclaimed Johnson as he nearly fell from his chair.

If what he was reading was correct, he had discovered a datapad with information relating to a meeting off-world between the leaders of multiple factions and the quasi-spiritual leader of the revolt, known as Typhon. He grabbed his datapad and hit the options to request a secure feed to his contact on the CCS Crusader. Before his pad would connect to the communication system he had to work through the fractal encryption subroutine, an add-on that was fitted only to the equipment used by members of Naval Intelligence. With the correct code entered it connected to the Naval Intelligence subsystem that was piggybacked onto the primary communication channel from the security headquarters.

“If I’m right this meeting could be between all the major players in the crisis,” he said quietly as he waited for the system to connect.

Looking at his screen he dragged the icons of each of the factions, groups and people until he had a small group surrounding Typhon in the middle of the screen. He looked at it thinking how many different people and links there were. This group could hold the key to the war and maybe even a peace in the System. They also contained people at every level of government and society throughout Proxima. He turned to his left checking the status of his datapad, it was taking longer than expected. He just hoped there weren’t any issues with the monitoring of his signal or data traffic. It was still interrogating the servers and checking for a secure channel. As he waited he re-looked at the groups mentioned in the message. It implied many more would be there but their names were in code.

“Who are Typhon’s children?” he asked as his datapad connected to the CCS Crusader.

With a flicker the screen changed on the pad as it transformed to a writing surface ready for him to communicate through. Normally he would use visual and audio communication, but with something this sensitive he could not afford to risk himself or the person he was speaking with directly.

* * *