The Phoenix Project (33 page)

    
“No Your Honor,” Dixon replied.

    
“Proceed.”

    
“At what point did she formulate a
countermeasure to the offensive?” Dixon
asked.

    
“As soon as the enemy advanced on our
position.”

    
“How do you know this?”

    
“She told me the enemy commander was using
a very old battle plan and that we already had him over a barrel: he just
didn’t know it yet.”

    
“Objection. Is this the Council’s proof?”
Myers asked, looking up from his collection of links.

    
“Sir, I just require a few more questions,”
Dixon said.

    
“Leeway’s starting to run out, Commander.”

    
“May I continue?” Dixon asked.

    
“Go ahead. A few questions, and that’s it.”

    
“What was her order after her comment?” Dixon asked.

    
“She ordered the
Excalibur
to the front
of the lines.”

    
“An unusual command to order the flagship
to the front line,” Dixon
said.

    
“Objection, Your Honor: leading the witness!”
Myers exclaimed, getting to his feet.

    
“Alright, Commander Myers. Sit down. I’m
pretty sure this is going somewhere,” the judge said. Myers resentfully
complied and allowed the defense to continue.

    
“What was her next order?” Dixon asked.

    
“She ordered all fighters to launch and move
to the forward lines.”

    
“Thank—you Commander,” Dixon said. “Could these orders have been
made for some other reason than for a strategic one?”

    
“None that I know of.”

    
“She had this formation ready before the
battle?” Dixon
asked.

    
“Yes, Commander.”

    
“Would you call that a snap decision?”

    
“No Commander,” Phelps replied.

    
“Just one more question, Commander. Would
you say that Admiral Peterson has an ego?”

    
“Yes, Commander.”

    
“Excuse me?” Dixon asked, raising his eyebrows.

    
“Everyone has an ego, Commander.”

    
Maria smiled from her seat. Phelps tipped
his head towards her in response.

    
“Sorry, Commander. Would you say Admiral
Peterson has an inflated ego?”

    
“No, I wouldn’t.”

    
“No more questions, Your Honor,” Dixon said and returned
to the defense council’s desk.

    
“Cross—examine, Commander Myer’s?” the
judge asked.

    
“Delighted, Your Honor,” Myers said as he
jumped to his feet.

    
“Contain your exuberance, Commander,” the
judge said while the prosecutor approached. Myer’s smug smile occupied his face
as he walked up to the witness stand.

    
“How long have you known the Admiral?”
Myers asked.

    
“About two months now,” Phelps replied.

    
“Would you say you’re an expert on her
behavior after your long association?”

    
“I guess not,” Ben replied. “I have not
known her very long.”

    
“Yes or no, Commander,” Myers said.

    
“No.”

    
“No further questions,” Myers said and sat
down.

    
Peter was busy recalibrating one of the
warhead’s numerous power relays in a continued attempt to bring the machine to
life. His earpiece beeped the unique signal indicating his true superiors
needed him. He looked up to a worker nearby who was also working on the
malfunctioning system.

    
“I’m getting a private message. I’ll need
to take it in my quarters.”

    
“Anything serious?”

    
“No, just a sick relative. I’ll take my
break early and answer it just in case,” Peter said. The mechanic nodded and
took his place at the relay station.

    
Peter walked at a quick pace to the lift
and descended down several floors to the crew quarters beneath the dome. Once
he arrived, he unlocked the voice print to his terminal and switched to an encrypted
channel. Alexander’s irritated expression filled much of the screen.

    
“You took your time.”

    
“I can’t sit in my quarters all day waiting
for your calls, you know,” Peter said.

    
“No matter, I have new orders for you.”

    
“Yeah, what is it?”

    
“The particle warhead you’re working on,”
Alexander said.

    
“Yes?” Peter asked now that his interest was
kindled.

    
“I want you to plant a lock command in it.”

    
“Be more specific, that could mean
anything,” Peter said.

    
“I want you to reprogram the computer with
a planted command that would deny everyone access, except for you.”

    
“Well, it is my baby.”

    
“What?” Alexander asked with a squint of his
white eyes.

    
“Nothing, sure “lock” command, got it.”

    
“That easy? No complaints, no “Why am I
going out of my way” arguments?”

    
“Why am I going out of my way?”

    
“Always a smart ass,” Alexander replied,
“but you are being unusually cooperative, Peter. Is there something I should
know?”

    
“You’re a subservient whelp.”

    
“Pot calling the kettle black. Alliance use of this
weapon must be avoided at all costs, understood?” Alexander asked.

    
“Understood.”

    
Alexander deactivated the screen. Peter
continued to stare at the black screen even after Alexander’s image disappeared
from it. A blank stare occupied his face while he considered what his orders
meant.

    
Might the Council use the weapon through
his control?

    
His control.

    
The idea of such a massive and formidable
device with a planted control like this was staggering for him. The computer
controlling the warhead was on an isolated system to prevent any outside
attempts at what he was just ordered to do. The command interface had a double
redundancy in its command codes so that at least three senior level officers
had to be present in order to activate it. The idea was that no one person
should have control over that much destructive power.

    
He had access to that computer right now.

    
After he was finished he would have the
ability to level the surface of the planet with a single command. The idea
brought a shiver of exhilaration up his back, and a slow megalomaniacal smile
spread across his face. A disturbing thought forced the smile away. He would
have that kind of power if they could get that great creation to finally
breathe.

    
Peter left his quarters with a firm
determination to redouble his efforts.

    
Lathiel and Ranik watched the evening’s
recap of events in the living room of their VIP quarters. Lathiel saw Ranik on
the screen for a few moments in the middle of his testimony.

    
“I think I looked pretty good,” Ranik said
with a mug of coffee in hand. He had grown a taste for it having found the
supplied granules in the kitchen and, with some effort, had figured out how it
was made. He preferred plenty of cream in it with a small amount of sweetener.

    
“You always think you look pretty good,”
Lathiel said. He watched the testimony from the fifth day of hearings. He took
a sip from the whiskey Elliot had given him at the party.

“
I don’t know
how you can drink that stuff,” Lathiel said of his cousin’s caffeine laden
refreshment.

    
“It’s not bad with this dairy in it. What’s
your irritation about anyway?”

    
“This isn’t making us look good,” Lathiel
replied. He stared at the screen that showed Ranik giving a long lecture
concerning the politics of the Ferine Assembly.

    
“We are what we are,” Ranik said, gulping
back more of the hot coffee.

    
“That’s not the problem. It’s what they perceive
us to be.”

    
“What do you think they perceive?” Ranik
asked in imitation of his friend.

    
“I wonder if this caffeine is having some
kind of effect on you.”

    
“What kind of effect is it having?” Ranik
asked with a sideways smile.

    
“Never mind. I’m worried about how their
International Network is presenting us.”

    
“Why?”

    
“They seem to be implying that we’re trying
to execute some kind of hoax. You saw that man, Phillip Bell, in the hearings,”
Lathiel said.

    
“Strange little man. He can’t be more than
five foot six inches.”

    
“Besides his height, he was treating us as
if we were deceiving him,” Lathiel said.

    
“I noticed. As I said, a strange little
man.”

    
“You just don’t get it, do you Ranik?”
Lathiel asked.

    
“I get it; half of them don’t trust us.”

    
“Yes, that half not only doesn’t trust us,
they want us in the ground with our ancestors.”

    
“Are you sure?” Ranik slurred.

    
“That’s enough coffee,” Lathiel said and
grabbed the mug from him. He stood up from the couch, marched to the
kitchenette nearby, and dumped its contents into the sink.

    
“Hey!”

    
“Here,” Lathiel said and gave him his glass
of whiskey.

    
“Aah!” Ranik said after a deep draught of
the liquor. Lathiel poured himself a new glass and sat back on the couch with
Ranik dropping in the seat next to him.

    
“We’ve got to look into this caffeine,” Ranik
said, sipping from his glass.

    
“Back to the point, Ranik. They don’t want
to hand us flowers.”

    
“No, I suppose not.”

    
“I’m wondering if we should leave,” Lathiel
thought aloud.

    
“Leave? I’m just starting to get to know
everyone.”

    
“So they’ll know what to put on your
gravestone?” Lathiel asked.

    
“It’s not that bad.”

    
“With Elliot, Madison, and Joshua, no,”
Lathiel said and set his glass down on the oak coffee table. He grabbed the
remote and lowered the volume on the screen.

    
“What’s wrong with Nadine?”

    
“Stop thinking with your striped penis,”
Lathiel said.

    
“Something wrong with your spotty one?”

    
“Get the caffeine out of your head.”

    
“What’s wrong with her?” Ranik demanded. He
sat up with a shroud of caffeine on his eyes.

    
“You haven’t noticed the difference between
their two governments?”

    
“Aren’t they the same?” Ranik asked. He was
more astute now that the whiskey was counteracting the coffee.

    
“We have only one government and it’s very
different from theirs. We’re used to a single clear voice.”

    
“They have two. That’s a problem?” Ranik
asked.

    
“It is when they’re polarized. Nadine is
part of a very suspicious herd.”

    
“We were once,” Ranik said, thinking of
their distant forbearers.

    
“They do remind me of our ancestors as well.
The Coalition seems so suspicious and devious.”