Archangel Down: Archangel Project. Book One (16 page)

She almost shouted Dan’s name, but gritted her teeth instead. Dan wasn’t the only person who’d been passed over for promotions. Starship Captains required tact and a certain amount of verbal restraint. In every evaluation she’d had since Tim died, she’d come up short on both counts. Before Tim died, she had someone she could vent to, always just a thought away. Afterward … well, it was a lot harder to smile at the politician you thought was a mother-eating rodent from the asteroid colonies in Six, when there was no one you could be secretly honest with. What had one officer said over beers? “In the event of a first contact scenario, Commander Sato would be the last person I’d want on a bridge. She’d tell the green sons-of-bitches exactly what she thought of them.”

Her nostrils flared and she balled her hands into fists. It wasn’t that she couldn’t be diplomatic. It was just that she hated it, so much that she wasn’t sure even a starship captaincy was worth the trouble.

But if they didn’t have Dan on their side, he could be dangerous. She bit the inside of her cheek. She thought of Ashley and Kenji. More than rank was at stake. “Ghost—think of him as Ghost,” she muttered softly to herself. “Feed his vanity.”

James must have heard because he gave a low huff.

“It will be hard, but worth it,” Noa promised James and herself. “Even if it makes my skin crawl.” Ghost was skilled enough to get them authorized to travel up to Time Gate 8. And … she paused at the top of the stairs. He’d known that she’d been sent to a camp; that meant, he’d know where Kenji was, too. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Ghost, we’ll help you,” she called out as sweetly as she could manage.

From the bottom of the stairs, Ghost’s voice rang out, “You made it … I’m sorry. I had to run, you understand. But you made it, that’s good.” His voice was plaintive, like a frightened child. In a child, Noa could have forgiven his simpering. She bit back the snarl that came to her lips. Instead of saying, “No thanks to you,” Noa said, “Yes, isn’t it wonderful? Now we can work together.” She smiled down at him from the landing.

Ghost stood at the bottom of the stairs, no longer wearing the holographic necklace. He was holding a laser rifle, but wasn’t aiming it. He sniffed. “I don’t need your help, you know.”

Noa’s fingernails dug into her palm. James, her silent shadow, strode forward suddenly, the metal wire of the landing groaning beneath his feet, the expression on his face as impassive as a statue. Noa caught his arm and he stopped. At the bottom of the stairwell Ghost shuffled backward and raised the rifle shakily. Her eyes widened in alarm. James was scaring Ghost—and that was not good. She mouthed the word “wait,” and then said, “Of course you don’t need our help, Ghost.”

Ghost huffed. “I’m just investigating my options … there are others who could use my services. Others with more money and faster ships.”

Noa’s brow creased, but she licked her lips and said, “Can we come down and talk about your services?”

Ghost was quiet for a long moment. But then he cleared his throat and lowered the rifle. Puffing out his chest, he sniffed again. “You can come down.”

James looked at her sharply. Slipping his hand up to her elbow, chin dipped, eyes on hers, lips so close she could feel his breath, he whispered in Japanese, “Is it safe?”

“Yes,” she replied in the same dead language.

“I’ll go first,” he whispered.

He was being protective. Touching and out of place. Noa shook her head. In Japanese she said, “No, you’ll frighten him.”

Downstairs, she heard Ghost clear his throat again.

James didn’t drop her elbow. She wanted to tell him that Ghost was too much of a coward for direct confrontation. But Ghost was probably listening, and he was smart enough to feed their words through an interpreter app at some point. The less they insulted him, the better.

Without waiting for James to drop her elbow, Noa spun out of his grip and went down the stairs. By the bottom of the steps, she felt her legs giving out again. She found herself grasping the handrail too tightly, wishing James still had her elbow, and carefully watching where she put her feet.

At the bottom of the steps, she lifted her head—and stifled a scream. Behind Ghost was a floor-to -ceiling pile of limbs and semi-dismembered corpses, piled like logs bathed in the vile green light. She backed into James, and would have fallen over if he hadn’t caught her. She was in the wagon again, the frozen elbows and knees of dead bodies jamming into her back and side.

“They’re just sex ‘bots,” Ghost said.

She blinked, and saw that the mannequin-like faces of what she’d taken to be bodies were too perfect in death to be from humans. More obvious were the wires jutting out of amputated limbs and torsos.

Noa’s diplomacy left her. “Still creepy as Hell, Dan!”

Ghost—Dan—rolled on his feet. He actually looked slightly ashamed. “Yes, but I need the parts, and people keep throwing them away. They’re illegal now, you know.”

Noa shivered unaccountably. Sex ‘bots were expensive. She knew only one person who could afford to have one. The penalty for having one must be immense if people were throwing them away. She didn’t approve of sex ‘bots, but she found her eyes roaming the pile for the face of the one she knew, and was a little surprised she felt relief when she didn’t see it.

“This way,” said Ghost, leading them through a door Noa hadn’t noticed. They followed him down a long hallway of poured concrete and exposed pipes. Her brow furrowed, remembering Dan’s—Ghost’s—psyche profile. He was all about showing status. If he was living in a place like this, he was in more trouble than he let on.

Ghost took them to a dark room that was too warm. It was cluttered with loose electronic equipment in disarray, and what appeared to be furniture covered by sheets. There was a floor-to-ceiling geothermal energy converter at one end of the room. There were also food pouches next to a wave oven and an industrial faucet with a bathtub-sized sink. Noa’s eyebrows rose. There was a surprisingly clean, large towel folded neatly beside the sink—as though he was using it for a bath. Ghost was definitely in more trouble than he was letting on. She swallowed. Ghost could disguise his face, and had fake IDs, if he was in trouble. Her eyes slid to James. He’d walked past her and was standing with his back to the geothermal converter, arms crossed, eyes on Ghost.

She heard the screech of chair legs on the floor, and turned to see Ghost clearing a space in the center of the room, pushing some furniture covered with a sheet. The sheet abruptly slid off, revealing a sex ‘bot in a ball gown sitting on an elaborately carved high-backed chair. Half of her head was cracked open.

Noa’s eyes went wide. Ghost, catching her expression, said, “She didn’t get me. And I needed her processor for something.”

Noa closed her eyes briefly, unsure if Ghost was telling a joke. She reminded herself that no matter how life-like the ‘bots were, they weren’t alive, and didn’t care if they lived or died. It still made her feel sick. She opened her eyes and found James’s eyes on hers, his expression unreadable.

Ghost pulled a cloth away from another piece of furniture, thankfully, only revealing another high-backed chair. He sat down, and motioned for Noa to take a seat on a rickety-looking folding chair nearby. He didn’t gesture to James at all.

Noa’s lips pursed at the slights to her and to James, but held her tongue.

As she sat down, Ghost leaned forward in his seat and smacked his hands together. “Now, to discuss my fees.”

James beat her to the rejoinder. “How can you tell us a fee if you don’t know the service?”

Ghost jerked his head back, and his eyes narrowed at James. Noa’s eyebrow rose, and she remembered Ghost’s ‘divine intervention’ comment at the table. Ghost had to have been following the secure channel communications. Did he know James was the figurative Archangel? Ghost was too smart to believe in aliens, but he might have heard of James killing four men during their escape. That could be why he was afraid.

Eyes coming back to Noa, Ghost said, “I know what you need.”

Crossing her legs, Noa leaned back in her chair. “Really?”

Looking heavenward, he gave a leering grin. “You need someone to shut off the defense grid so you can slip your ship out of orbit.”

Noa’s mouth fell open. What Ghost was proposing was next to impossible. The defense grid’s passcodes would be a lot more secure than a mechanic’s personnel files. His proposal was also so far out of left field that it left her speechless. Her eyes met James’s. He’d been leaning against the geothermal converter, but now he’d taken a step forward. His head was cocked, and one eyebrow was up in an expression that she recognized by now. It clearly said, “What is this crazy person thinking?”

Ghost bounced in his seat, drawing Noa’s eyes back to him.

“Where do you plan to go? Which of the in-system colonies? There is Atlantia and Libertas ...” Ghost asked. His eyes narrowed and he raised a finger. “Oh, I know. Libertas is the most self-sufficient colony this side of the time gate. You’ll hole up there. The local food, water, and oxygen should last another few decades.” He nodded and smiled, as though pleased with himself. His eyes slid to the side. “With enough money, we could buy out Libertas’s natives.” His head bobbled, his smile remained frozen on his face, and his eyes slid back to Noa.

Noa blinked. Leaning forward, she said, “I have a better plan. One easier than turning off the defense grid. I’m going to bring the armada here. I just need someone who can get James and me to Time Gate 8, we’ll send off a message and—”

Ghost started to giggle.

“What?” Noa said.

Wiping his eyes, Ghost said, “You’re joking.”

Noa’s eyes slid to James, and both of them looked at Ghost.

Ceasing his manic giggles, Ghost’s gaze flitted between them. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?” asked Noa.

“Silly woman,” Ghost said. “There are no more flights to Time Gate 8. There are no flights out of atmosphere, period.” His head bobbed, and he looked away. “Well, except for the contingent of the local armada surrounding the station in a Mexican standoff. They periodically refuel and do supply runs.”

Noa’s mind reeled. Without Time Gate 8, it would take a Fleet ship nearly ten years to reach Luddeccea at light speed from Time Gate 7 … if they left right away. Her brow constricted. And they wouldn’t leave right away—a mission of that scope would take months of planning. She shook her head. There had to be a way to reclaim Time Gate 8. “Have terrorists taken over the gate?” Noa asked.

Ghost blinked at Noa. And then he said, “Aliens have control of Time Gate 8.” His eyes went to James, and she had an uneasy feeling in her gut.

Noa tilted her head and said sharply, “That’s Luddeccean lunacy. None of the Fleet intel has any indication of space-going sentient races—energy beings or not. You’re too smart to believe that, Ghost.”

Ghost shifted in his seat and dropped his eyes. “I didn’t believe it at first, Noa. But the evidence, it’s indisputable—the energy beings, they’ve taken over the station.” He met her gaze, and his eyes were pleading. “I have access to Luddeccean intel. The station’s personnel, the travelers, hardly any of them escaped during the takeover. If it hadn’t been for a Luddeccean agent who planted a plasma detonator on the station long enough to temporarily damage the gate’s self defense mechanisms, no one would have escaped at all. As it was, well, Time Gate 8’s portal functionality was permanently disabled along with it. The gate’s defenses were temporarily shut down—just long enough for some vessels to escape the station.”

Noa’s jaw went slack. All the words he said had registered, and yet they weren’t fitting together in her head.

She was vaguely aware of James asking, “When did this happen?” Ghost gave a reply, and James said, “Be more specific. I need to know when … to the hour, and minute, and second.”

Noa was dumbstruck. The station was under control of an alien force shooting ships from the sky? How could something like that happen without the Fleet having some inkling beforehand? It was too big, too much. There would have been signs. She had been privy to every suspected first contact, and all had come to
nothing
.

“That is impossible,” she dimly heard James say. “The station could not have been under alien control at that time—”

“The meteor showers,” Noa exclaimed, lifting her head. She hadn’t realized she’d dropped her face into her hands. “They aren’t natural, are they?”

Ghost turned to her with a sidelong glance at James. “No. Of course not. That is the station knocking ships out of the sky.” He looked at a point on the floor just before her feet. “And the self-defense grid knocking down people trying to escape Luddeccea and head to Libertas, or other in-system colonies.”

“The self-defense forces are knocking down people trying to get off world?” James asked.

Ghost cleared his throat. “And anyone trying to re-enter. All off-planet trade has been suspended. You didn’t know?”

James mutely shook his head.

Noa dragged her hands down her face, her body feeling heavier and colder by the minute. “We have to let the Fleet know what is going on. We have to bring them here.”

Ghost sighed. “Even at light speed, without a functional jump gate it will take ten years for the Fleet to get here from Time Gate 7.”

“There’s another,” Noa said.

“Another what?” James asked.

Ghost’s eyes went wide. “They have one? In this system? Why haven’t they used it?”

Noa massaged her temples. “It went offline a few weeks ago.”

“What went offline?” James asked.

“There’s another time gate,” Ghost said. His security clearance hadn’t been high enough to know its exact location, but he must have heard rumors that they existed.

“Another time gate?” said James.

Noa let out a breath. “Military only.” It wasn’t something civilians were generally privy to—or even all Fleet personnel. The Fleet had hidden gates in every inhabited system that was part of the Republic … and in some systems that technically weren’t part of the Republic, or even inhabited.

Ghost shook his head, very fast, causing the loose skin near his chin to jiggle. “We can’t use it, Noa. What if it was taken over by the same aliens who—”