Ure Infectus (Imperium Cicernus Book 4) (39 page)

“What
would
the real problem be?” Jericho asked as steadily
as he could manage. This was, to put it mildly, an end-of-the-world scenario.

“The fallout,” she replied matter-of-factly. “See…without
the extra compression provided by the crust these warheads wouldn’t ‘pop,’
they’d ‘fizzle.’ And while that might seem like a nice thing at first, it’s
anything but. Benton’s calculations
suggested that the entire planet would get blanketed in enough radioactive
material that even the entire Chimera Sector’s supply of anti-radiation meds
wouldn’t do much more than dent the issue.”

Jericho leaned back in his chair and exhaled completely
before drawing a deep breath. “That’s why Benton never left Virgin,” he
concluded.

“You got it, sugar,” she replied gravely. “He tried to
reposition my platform into a higher orbit dozens of times, or to somehow
stabilize the attitude control hardware’s decaying architecture, but he kept
running into problems whenever he’d go fiddling with the mainframe or try
taking the E.E.V. out of its predefined mission parameters.” Eve sighed heavily,
“I don’t think there’s another human in the Sector who could have done what he
did with his limited resources.” She snorted softly, “He would have called it a
‘miracle’ that he kept it in orbit at all.”

“Why didn’t he ask for help?” Jericho asked. “Hadden
Enterprises could have sent in a covert operations team and repaired the damage
manually.”

Eve shook her head, “You know as well as I do that Benton
had
extreme
daddy issues. He was
brilliant,” she admitted, “but that didn’t come without its own set of
problems…he once said the only things he inherited from his father were ‘his
brain and his intransigence’.”

Jericho chuckled softly. “Sounds about right to me,” he
agreed, “
if
those two could have ever been on the same
page, I doubt our current situation would have developed.”

“What are you gonna do?” Eve asked rhetorically with an
emphatic shrug.

Jericho nodded, considering his options. “Indeed,” he agreed
before arriving at a conclusion, “so how do we get you off that thing, and keep
it from destroying Virgin in the process?”

Eve shook her head solemnly. “Even if the E.E.V. is totally
offline and gently falling toward an atmospheric incineration…and even if you
managed to get a hold of my hardware in time…we can’t do anything about the
other six E.E.V. platforms.”

“Six?!”
Jericho blurted as he shot
forward in his seat. “There are six more of these things?”

She nodded gravely. “Once my platform goes down, the others
will assume the system’s been infiltrated,” she explained. “They’ll conclude
that this Star System is in open rebellion against the Imperium and launch
their payloads into their target zones—remember
,
they
don’t know that the wormhole collapsed two centuries ago. The best-case
scenario is a complete volcanic ejection of each and every joule of pent-up
energy along Virgin’s nine major fault lines—which, while devastating, will at
least allow for most of the people to be evacuated before the world turns into
an ice brick.” Eve took a deep breath, “But the worst-case scenario is that
every major population center is blanketed in its own, personalized fallout
cloud and the Sector gets to watch a quarter billion people die on the Capitol
planet in the coming days, weeks, and potentially even months.” She shook her
head grimly, “And that wouldn’t be fun for
anybody
.”

Jericho shook his head. “We can’t do this alone,” he
realized.

“We can’t do this
at all
, Jericho,” Eve replied with
absolute conviction, and Jericho was forced to admit that it was becoming
increasingly likely she was right.

Then a thought came to him and he sat back in his chair as
he began to access the comm. system in an attempt to raise the
Zhuge Liang
.

“Jericho,” Eve began patiently, “there isn’t an operator of
sufficient skill aboard the
Zhuge Liang
to do what we would need
done—certainly not in the time we’d need it!” She shook her head adamantly as
she turned the
Neil deGrasse Tyson
around, “I’m done for, but there’s no
reason you should die in some impossible attempt to save me.”

“Eve,” Jericho said evenly, “you may know more about the
technical aspects of what we would need to do—hell, you know a hundred times as
much as I do.” He cracked a grin before continuing, “But I’ve forgotten more
about human psychology than you’ll ever assimilate into your programming.”

Eve gave him a wary look. “What does psychology have to do
with a falling military satellite set to wipe out an entire planet?” she asked
in a clearly challenging tone.

He nodded, realizing the answer had been staring them in the
face the entire time. “You were more than just important to Benton, Eve,”
Jericho explained, “I used to think you were just his emotional companion or,
at worst, a modified sexbot program—no offense,” he added quickly.

Eve looked down at her ample, virtual cleavage and struck a
suggestive pose before batting her eyelashes, “None taken, sweetheart.”

“He dedicated his life to you,” Jericho continued, and he
saw the look of confusion grow on Eve’s face, “do you actually think he hadn’t
planned for this eventuality?”

“What are you saying?” she asked as she narrowed her eyes.

“I’m saying that you need to turn this shuttle around and
max-burn for your E.E.V.,” he replied confidently. “I’m guessing Benton’s
already given us everything we’ll need not only to transfer your program, but
to deal with the impending holocaust as well—and it’s going to be hidden in
your own hardware.”

Eve’s eyes widened as she appeared to consider the
possibility. “You know…you just might be right,” she said as she began to nod.
“He would have left instructions in my tertiary caches,” she mused, and the
Tyson
slewed around before its acceleration pinned Jericho to his seat. “How?” she
asked in bewilderment. “How did you see it while I couldn’t?”

Jericho’s grin broadened as he settled in for the flight. “Benton
loved you more than anyone knew, and that kind of love makes a person take
certain precautions in case something untoward happens,” he explained. “Once I
realized it was a genuine affection he displayed toward you, which you
reciprocated in a way he could understand, it became obvious he would do
whatever he could to protect you.”

Eve shook her head doubtfully, “I hope you’re right, Jericho…because
while this little trip should be fun for me, this is a big risk you’re taking.”

As the
Neil deGrasse Tyson
rocketed around the planet
and hurtled toward the E.E.V.’s likely location, he shook his head confidently
as he closed his eyes to get some rest before things heated up. “It’s no risk,
Eve; trust me,” Jericho said and he couldn’t help but add, “
human
psychology’s about as mysterious to me as a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Three minutes out,” Eve reported, and Jericho couldn’t help
but stare in awe at the size of the facility before them. It was at least half
as large as the Battle Carrier
Alexander
, which was itself supposedly
the largest moving object in the Sector.

Jericho checked his vacuum suit’s seals and confirmed they
were all properly fastened.

“You should have let me take us back to the
Zhuge Liang
so you could get some combat armor,” Eve said for at least the tenth time.

“
It’s
fine, Eve,” Jericho said
easily. “You said yourself that there’s nothing on the scanners; we’re in the
clear.” The truth was he, too, silently bemoaned his lack of physical
protection. He had thankfully failed to remove Captain Sasaki’s knife from the
locker, as well as the monomolecular blade and an energy pistol. He had
fastened each of the weapons to his belt, careful to avoid positioning them
such that they might damage his thin spacewalking work suit.

But he had deemed the risk to Virgin’s populace simply too
great based on the available information. He had also dispatched the
Zhuge
Liang
to a position where it could locate as many of the satellites as
possible, should he and Eve manage to make them visible somehow.

“There it is,” Eve said triumphantly, “the E.E.V.’s
secondary comm. relay looks to have been taken out.”

“Taken out by what?” Jericho asked warily as he leaned
forward to inspect the cockpit’s primary display.

“That’s a toughie,” Eve replied, “see…if I didn’t know
better, I’d say it’s been physically disconnected. There’s no energy signature
I can detect on the mount, no blast residual on the boom itself, or damage of
any kind to the surrounding structures which might indicate a collision.
Thankfully the embedded transmitters are still functioning. Otherwise Virgin
would be wreathed in a cloud of ash like nothing it’s ever seen.”

“Can you use those transmitters to access your tertiary
caches?” Jericho asked quickly.

“Afraid not, babe,” Eve replied with disappointment, “those
guys are strictly ‘do not enter,’ and generally anal about the flow of
information proceeding one way and one way only. Trust me,” she added with a
meaningful look, “Benton tried for years to gain access. If he couldn’t do it,
it can’t be done.”

Jericho considered the information and asked, “How long
until this thing burns up in the atmosphere?”

“At our current orbit’s rate of decay,” she said as the
shuttle docked with one of two docking arms, “we’re looking at total burn-up in
three hours, but the interference from re-entry will knock out the
platform-to-platform transmitters in just
under
two
hours.”

“Then that’s the deadline,” Jericho said, glad to at least
have a timetable, “set a countdown on my wrist-link, please.”

“You got it,” she replied. “Now we’re going to need quite a
bit of gear from the platform, but most of it’s not that large and each
component’s encased in a protective housing. You should be able to stuff them
in the duffel to bring them back here. But there are six pieces in total, got
it?”

“Yes, Eve,” Jericho replied as the door swung open and the
corridor extended before him, “we’ve gone over it. I know what I’m looking for,
but you’ll need to guide me through a few of the steps.”

Before Jericho could step into the short hallway which took
a sharp left turn just a few meters in, Eve said, “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Jericho asked.

“No pressure differential, darling,” Eve replied dryly, and
after she said it Jericho realized she was right and he stopped mid-step before
exiting the shuttle. “The system isn’t supposed to maintain this kind of atmo
except during scheduled maintenance visits by Imperial technicians.”

“Can you tap into the internal sensor feeds?” Jericho asked
as his hand went to the pistol at his hip.

“I’m trying…” Eve replied hesitantly, “but I’m getting some
kind of interference.
Aww, hell-in-a-hand-basket,” she
growled, “someone’s already gotten into the system.”

“Have they detected us?” Jericho asked sharply.

“I honestly couldn’t say, Jericho,” Eve replied tensely,
“but so far I haven’t seen any indications of that. There’s no comm. chatter on
any of the standard frequencies or signs of irregular activity in the E.E.V.’s
external transmissions.”

“Ok,” Jericho said as he stepped out of the shuttle and his
magnetic boots pulled
themselves
gently to the floor of
the access tube, “give me a layout of the station with a route to where your
hardware’s stored.”

“One sec,” Eve replied, and after nearly five seconds his
wrist link’s display sprang to life with a three-dimensional representation of
the E.E.V. “It’s up…but Jericho,” she protested, “you don’t need to do this. We
can still call in the
Zhuge Liang
and see if they can copy the
transmission this platform is broadcasting to the others.”

“There’s only a twenty percent chance that will work, Eve,”
Jericho reminded her as he made his way down to the bend in the tube-like
corridor, “Lisa Steiner doesn’t think she can do it with the available
equipment, so we’d just be rolling the dice. Benton stowed the information away
somewhere on this platform,” he said confidently. “He knew the stakes here
better than anyone—he wouldn’t leave this to chance so neither will we.”

“You’re probably right,” Eve relented before quipping, “but
you’re not even dressed for the occasion.”

Jericho dearly wished he
had
worn some kind of body
armor as he came to the primary airlock for their access tube and said, “Can
you cover our entrance?”

“I might be able to use some diagnostic protocols Benton
gave me,” she said hesitantly. “But they’ll just buy us a few minutes before
the entire internal sensor grid lights up like Abaca on concert night.”

“Eve!” Jericho snapped irritably, actually taken aback at
her latest wisecrack.

“What,” she asked innocently as the door slid open before
him, “too soon?”

Jericho bit back a retort as he slipped through the doorway,
which quickly closed behind him, “Don’t you think you could can the jokes for a
little bit?”

“No can do, pilgrim,” she replied in an unusual, drawling
accent. “I’m goin’ out like I came in, so learn to deal with it or turn around
and go home.”

“Nice try,” he said dryly as he followed the indicated route
showed on his wrist link. “How many locked doors are there?”

“There shouldn’t be any,” she replied in her usual, spunky
voice. “This isn’t exactly a highly visible facility, after all; most of the
protocols for keeping it out of enemy hands are based on the notions of stealth
and…well, you know, mutual annihilation.”

“And you were the security program for this place?” he
asked, finding himself fascinated how an apparently intelligent being like her
could have developed.

“That’s what the code says,” she agreed. “But I’m so
different from that simple ‘read-and-react’ countermeasures program now that it
would be like comparing a modern human to a fish. Actually…” she deadpanned,
“you
are
basically the same, right?”

“Keep cracking wise,” he muttered as he came to junction and
quickly ducked behind the bulkhead. “We’ve got company,” he said quietly as he
peered around the corner and drew his plasma pistol—the same one which Obunda
had tried to kill him with just a few days earlier.

“How many?” she asked.

“Two,” he replied after checking each of the three corridors
which intersected at his current position, “and they look like they’ve tapped
into an access panel of some kind.”

“Uh oh,” she said with obviously dramatic intent.

“What?” he hissed.

“The access panels in that corridor are linked directly to
the crust-busters’ locking mechanisms,” she explained grimly. “Seems like they
knew what they were looking for after all.”

“Have they unlocked any of the warheads?” Jericho asked,
running silent calculations on his possible courses of action.

“I can’t tell with the
Tyson
’s sensors,” she said
shortly, “the only way to be certain is to tap into their feed directly; none
of those systems are connected to anything with external inputs.”

“All right,” Jericho said as he turned the corner and
leveled his pistol at the nearest of the two. They were so preoccupied that
they didn’t even notice him until he was just a few meters from their position.
“Who are you?” he demanded, and they both threw their hands into the air in
surrender.

“Where did you come from?” the further of the two asked in
bewilderment.

“Answer the question,” Jericho said tersely, “I already know
what you’re doing. All I want to know is who you are.”

“We’ve got company, Jericho,” Eve said through his earpiece,
“I’m reading a vessel on approach. It looks like an intra-system transport—no
Phase Drive signature detected.”

“Answer me—now,” Jericho snapped.

When the two looked at each other, Jericho saw a small data
port built into the nearest one’s neck just below the ear. Just as he was about
to inquire about the device, the man whirled and brought a sonic weapon to bear
on Jericho, but he was a fraction of a second slower than Jericho.

The pistol, which had previously belonged to Obunda, spat a
short stream of superheated plasma and the man’s body was enveloped in a field
of greenish-white fire. The plasma flames consumed him utterly before he could
even cry out, and Jericho re-trained the impressively deadly weapon on the
other man before he could react to the first shot.

“Only a handful of private citizens in the System can afford
to have those ports installed,” he said evenly as he pointed the pistol toward the
man’s neck, where another such data plug was now plainly visible, “but judging
by your low-rent ship I’m guessing neither of you are among them. That makes
you black ops technicians here on classified orders to take over the station
for President Blanco’s direct control—stop me if I get any of this wrong,” he
added as he walked steadily toward the man.

“Our orders are official,” the man protested, “we’ve got to
deactivate the launch mechanisms and transfer the warheads before this thing
goes up.”

“What about the others?” Jericho demanded, briefly doubting
his deductive reasoning skills.

“What others?” the operative asked with apparent confusion.

“The other E.E.V.’s,” Jericho replied, having drawn to
within two paces of the other man. “What were you going to do about them?”

“There aren’t any other E.E.V.’s,” the technician said as he
furrowed his brow in confusion and steadied himself against a nearby bulkhead
with his hand. He was still floating in near zero gravity, while Jericho was
wearing magnetic boots.

“Then either you’re too stupid to know what you were doing,”
Jericho said casually as he took another step forward, “or you’re lying to me.
Either way, you’ve cost me enough time.”

Just as the man made to inquire as to what he meant, Jericho
snapped the butt of the plasma pistol into the base of his skull and sent him
pinwheeling into the nearby bulkhead.

“We’re going to have to speed this up, Eve,” Jericho said
hastily, “you should probably undock and—“

“Already done it, babe,” she assured him. “Follow the
indicated path on your link and you should reach my sub-node in just a few
minutes.”

“Ok,” he replied and set off at as fast of a run as he could
manage with the boots. It wasn’t long and he came to the indicated corridor and
he said, “Eve, now what?”

“Remove the panel marked ‘SN-3220’,” she replied through a
thick blanket of static, and he quickly found the indicated panel. “It will
open a crawlspace; go to the end and you’ll come to a hatch which leads to a
thermally-regulated room. That’s where you’ll find my sub-node and, if you’re
right, Benton’s instructions on how to kill this thing once and for all.”

Jericho popped the panel off and began to crawl through the
tiny space, actually having to wriggle through a few choke points along the way
which were simply too narrow for him to fit through without carefully
accounting for his suit to avoid breaking its skin and exposing him to the
station’s environs. While the two technicians had seemed convinced that the
E.E.V.’s atmosphere posed no threat, Jericho couldn’t be sure how long that
would remain the case.

After about fifty feet he came to a heavy, secure door with
a series of markings which made no sense to him. “I’m here,” he said as he
looked around for an access panel of some kind, “but I’m not seeing a way to
open it.”

Static flared in his earpiece and he was barely able to make
out anything but the hint of Eve’s voice. Then her voice crackled through the
interference and she said, “Too deep, Jericho. I can’t walk…need to get the
components yourse…unlocking the door now.”

The hatch popped open, and Jericho surmised that there was
too much shielding this deep in the platform for the
Tyson
’s relatively
low-powered comm. system to penetrate. If he had understood Eve’s broken words
correctly, he was going to be on his own extracting her components. Doctor
Maturin had already attached Jericho’s still-forming thumb to his reconstructed
left arm but the digit was still less than dependable and had almost no tactile
sensation.

So he carefully pulled the hatch open, using primarily his
right hand, and crawled into a cramped, low-ceiling room which was barely tall
enough for him to kneel and maintain a posture resembling an upright one. There
were several pipes feeding super-cooled gas into the chamber, and the
temperature was dangerously cold. Jericho knew that if his now-moist skin made
any contact with the metal of the room, it would become inextricably frozen in
place.