Prometheus and the Dragon (Atlas and the Winds Book 2) (37 page)

“It’s definitely Sommerset,” Doug said. “Wonder why he’s here? He never shows up with his legions.”

“Maybe we’re going to be the final battle. His personal version of Armageddon,” Cole said, taking the epad back and sitting down across from Shapiro. Tom had already given Shapiro the news, and had gone off to attend to his next management crisis. Like usual, at least lately, Cole was merely following up on things Tom had already dealt with.

“That makes as much sense as anything else I’ve heard,” Doug said. “Makes me nervous though. After their attack on Vandenberg, I’d think they’d be easing up a bit. They’re still counting the dead from that one.”

“They attacked Vandenberg?” Cole blinked in surprise. “We didn’t hear anything about it.”

“Yeah, and you won’t either. They did a lot of damage to two of the pads, and killed almost a thousand of our troops before we got them stopped,” Doug said, tapping a command into his satlink and calling up the reports. “Evidently they brought almost a hundred thousand people up against the fences, and then just pushed through. Took out fifty tanks and a couple attack choppers before we realized how many of them there were.”

“How’d they take out the tanks?” Cole asked.

“They came in with a small swarm of RC airplanes and used them to drop vials of gas through the hatches,” he said. “The army has sent out a new standing order that all vehicles are to be kept buttoned up at all times. They shot down the choppers with RPGs.”

“Holy shit,” Cole said. “They’re pretty well-tooled then.”

“The Air Force called in a squadron of B-6 close support bombers and just pounded the entire field before they got them stopped,” he said. “They’ve got video of it with the report, if you want to see it.”

“No thanks,” Cole said, as he felt a strange queasiness twisting in his stomach. Doug shrugged it off.

“Unfortunately, they destroyed the primary airstrip that services the launch pads with the bombers, so the launches from there are going to be severely curtailed for the duration.” Shapiro closed the file and sat back. “I guess we can assume that his being here poses a serious threat to Stormhaven.”

“What can we do about it? I mean, so far it looks like he’s only got a few hundred followers out there. If we let them get entrenched, I don’t know if we can stop him,” Cole said.

“I’ve reported his location to DHS, and expect to be getting a response at any time,” he said. “You know there’s a reward for information on his whereabouts. Do you want it?”

Cole snorted. “No, we just need to get him the hell out of here.”

“I have to tell you, there’s another report about an attempt to capture him in Tennessee,” Doug said. “He was setting up for a broadcast, and a mob of his supporters came out of the trees and jumped the units. None of our men survived.”

“At least we can see who’s out there,” Colton said. “No counterstrike hidden in the shadows.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll be too anxious to move against him either. Homeland Security and the military are stretched just holding the rest of the country together. Pulling a big enough force off security duty to fight it out with him might not be high on their list of priorities.” Doug stood up and shrugged again. “You know, you did pretty well against us. They’re going to ask why you need help handling him. If he’s here poking at you, then he’s not attacking one of our operations.”

“I can see that,” Cole admitted, “but if he’s not been at any of their other attacks, he might still move somewhere else while he’s camping here.”

“That’s true enough, though I don’t expect that’s going to factor heavily into their decision,” he said.

“Well that sucks,” Cole said, standing to leave.

“Douglas. Is Cole still with you?” Tom’s voice came over the com. “Mica’s internal locater grid is down, and she can’t tell me where to find him.”

“He’s here,” Shapiro said.

“Can the two of you meet me on the back apron? We’ve got a problem,” he said. His voice sounded dead. Flat.

“Sure, we’re on our way,” Doug said, his face switching to match Tom’s tone.

Tom met them as they came out onto the landing pad. Six carriers were parked along the apron’s perimeter, and the
Archangel
Gabriel
stood in its center. Cole tried to gauge his friend’s face, but the expression was one that he’d never in all his years seen him wear.

“What’s wrong?” Cole asked, as he led them toward the ship.

“They had a problem in Bangkok,” he said. “Taly brought the ship back.”

“Oh?” Colton croaked, jumping to an instant conclusion. “What happened?”

“The ship got overrun,” he said, “and a lot of people got killed.”

“Taly? So what happened to Glen?” he asked, almost sprinting toward the ship.

“We called Sophie in. She’s supposed to be here any minute.”

“Please tell me he didn’t get shot.” Cole was at the front airlock and met Talia standing there. She looked like she’d been crying. “Where’s Glen?” he demanded, trying to shove past the mountain of a woman.

She shook her head and reached her arms across the doorway to stop him. “There was nothing we could do,” she said, her voice almost a choked sob. “It was too late.”

He ducked below her arm, setting his shoulder into her ribs and shoving until she gave ground. He dashed to the ladder and shot up to the mid-deck. The door to Glen’s cabin stood open and two of his crew were outside. They spun as he approached, grabbing Cole and holding him back. He struggled against them for a moment, then over their shoulders he saw Glen, or rather his lifeless body, hanging from a thin cord.

A million miles behind him, he heard Tom’s voice, “Cut him down, for Christ sake.”

An eternity later, he felt arms around him, and heard Sophie sobbing in his ear. She’d come up and collapsed against him.

In the distance he could hear Tom and Shapiro talking to Talia, and even through the fog, he picked out parts of what she was telling them.

“All the intake team and all but three of the guards are missing, probably dead.” And another flash of their discussion, “We haven’t looked, maybe a couple thousand in there ...” and “We had no choice.”

Tom’s voice sounded like he was distracted when he spoke. Cole registered it as trying to maintain detachment. “It was bound to happen,” he was saying. “We’ll have to end the mission and recall the crews.”

“What are we going to do with the bodies?” someone else asked.

His rage gave way to empty despair, and he collapsed the rest of the way. His desire to keep pushing finally gone. Someone else could deal with it.

***

New Hope Colony, Plato:

Dick and Sandy Rogers bounced through the docking tunnel, the former Vice President a somber counterpoint to his wife’s glowing grin. Between them a bundle of innocent joy ricocheted around like a super ball gone mad. The child giggled and squealed as she launched herself awkwardly from the floor, straining the arms of the two adults who kept pulling her back to the ground so she could bound upward again. She looked like she never intended to get tired of the new game she’d invented, even if it was straining the patience of the colony’s new Chancellor a little more with each repetition.

“Chancellor Rogers, welcome to New Hope,” Susan Winslow said, grinning in spite of his obvious frustration. He turned loose of the miniature tornado to shake her hand. At that instant both little legs fired and the girl shot up into the air, spinning his wife almost in a full circle.

“Thank you,” he said, dodging the gyrations of Sandy and the demon child. General Marquez deftly snatched the girl out of mid-spin and deposited her firmly on the floor behind his back. Carter jumped out of the way as she scurried away down the hall, chasing two officers and an innocent bystander who were in full retreat.

“Do you have any Valium?” the Chancellor asked.

“Rough trip?” Carter asked, trying to stifle a grin.

“I didn’t mean for me. I meant for her,” he sighed. She’d rounded the corner and her squeals were dying down quickly.

“Who is she?” Marquez asked, grabbing the bags from Sandy and nodding down the hall in the direction the child had disappeared.

“I think she’s Sylvia’s idea of a practical joke,” he said, handing his bags to Carter, who held out his hand.

“Honestly Dick, she’s not that bad,” Sandy said, squeezing his shoulder in support. “If you were twenty years younger you’d be bouncing around like a rubber ball too.”

He looked at her and almost grinned. “Moi?” He set his feet squarely and hunkered down to launch himself into the air.

“Don’t!” the three department heads said in unison, reaching to make sure he didn’t leave the ground. Instead he straightened up.

“Even if some people don’t believe it, I value the stuff I carry around between my ears.” He looked up at the ceiling and cocked his head to the side. There were dents all over it. “Anybody ever kill themselves doing that?” he pointed up at the cratered overhead.

“Not yet,” Susan said.

“Let’s not be the first, ok?” Sandy said.

“I thought your grandkids were all older than that,” Susan said, as they followed after the girl at a far more leisurely pace.

“They are,” Sandy explained. “They’re all on the
Lynx
too, so they’ll be swarming through here any minute. That child is Alana Hernandez.”

“Who?” Marquez asked.

“Remember that woman who was killed when Norman Anderson blew himself up?” Dick asked. The three shot him a questioning look and he realized he’d said something he shouldn’t have. No one asked, so he didn’t explain.

“Anyway, she was almost full-term,” Sandy went on for him. “Doctors couldn’t save the mother, but they managed to save the baby. There were no next-of-kin, so she’s been a ward of the state ever since. Sylvia had papers drafted giving us legal custody. It was a bit of a surprise when we loaded up this morning.”

“I’ll bet it was,” the General said, his eyes wide with sarcastic shock.

“You don’t think she can get into trouble running around out there, do you?” Sandy asked.

“There are other kids in the commons, and we’ve got a couple adults posted to keep an eye on the playground. She’ll be fine,” Carter said.

“That’s a relief,” he said. “Can we get our stuff dropped off at our apartment so I can get right to work?”

“Absolutely,” Susan said. She tapped a switch on her headset, and called for someone to carry the Chancellor’s belongings to his new quarters.

“You go ahead, and I’ll keep an eye on Alana until the reinforcements arrive,” Sandy said, pushing him away. “I think I like the parenthood thing.”

***

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Standing Against the Tide

Lunagrad, Boscovich Crater:

Faruq al Hassien sat tied to a chair in the Commander’s office. His eyes were swollen, and dried blood had formed a feathery stain at the corner of his mouth. His hands showed signs of the damage he’d inflicted on the men that had pulled him out of his hiding place in the air recycler cabinet at the back of the number four garden dome. Reportedly, he’d almost killed one of them before the other three managed to subdue him. From how it looked, perhaps
beat him into submission
might be a more accurate version of his apprehension.

In any case, he’d been hauled in, past the almost dead bodies of his fallen men, who had been herded into the gardens by a series of life support failures. It wasn’t until they’d been pushed as far from the airlocks as they could be, that any of them had realized that it was a trap. Once they’d been gathered together, the doctor’s gas cocktail had put them to sleep in seconds, and the oxygen levels had been reduced enough to guarantee they’d not regain consciousness.

A dozen guards with Kalashnikovs stood outside the one door from the garden, just in case anyone managed to crawl their way out. No one had been killed, at least not yet, but the day was still young.

“What to do with you?” Commander Romanov said, pulling his vodka bottle out of his drawer and putting his feet up on his desk. He knew full well the gross insult his actions carried, and he really didn’t care. “I’ve been given permission to dispose of you as I wish. Does that frighten you?”

“Not particularly,” Faruq said, ignoring the insults.

“Perhaps this is true,” he said, “and you would enjoy what I would do to you and your insolent mutineers. But I am of mind to be lenient today. Hold your words, and at least some of your people may yet live.”

“As slaves?” Faruq twisted in his chair. “I would rather die than to service you and your dogs.”

“This is still possible,” the Russian said. “We are not of one mind here in Lunagrad. I do not want innocent blood on my hands, but many of my officers are not so ... charitable.”

“As I see it, you have no choice but to execute us,” Faruq said. “As long as there is one Arab heart beating within the walls of your base, you will never have a night’s peace. You have betrayed our people on Earth and you will betray us here. You will never see us as equals, and we will never live as slaves.”