The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle (270 page)

The jeeps had cleared Stakeout Canyon when they began to pick up the scattered fragments of Johansson’s reply. Paula programmed her array to piece together the vocal snippets as they repeated again and again. Static crashed out of the speakers as she played the message. It was a little bit longer and cleaner each time. By the fifth time there was no mistake.

“Is it him?” Rosamund asked. “Did you tell Renne that?”

“Yes.” Paula stared through the jeep’s curving windshield. The headlight beams were flowing over the blank, shiny surface of sand and shale as the sleek vehicle raced for cover. She thought the eastern horizon might be slightly lighter. The ache had almost gone from her limbs now, but she felt desperately tired, as if she hadn’t slept for months.

“So Adam contacted Oscar,” Rosamund said. “Does that help?”

“It makes a lot of sense, especially the why of it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Adam knew Oscar wasn’t the Starflyer agent. If Oscar had been, then he would have captured Adam and taken him for interrogation as soon as Adam made contact; Adam would have been totally unprepared.”

“Then why didn’t he just tell us?”

“He was protecting Oscar.”

“From whom?”

“Me. Turn around.”

Rosamund shot her a startled look. “Do what?”

“Turn around.” Her virtual hands fluttered over icons, trying to contact Oscar. The handheld array didn’t have the range, not with the canyon wall blocking them. “I have to get back there.”

“We haven’t got time!”

“Stop the jeep. You can get in with Jamas or Kieran. I’ll drive back myself.”

“Oh, dreaming heavens!” Rosamund wrenched at the wheel, sending the jeep into a skid-curve. It shook wildly as it chased the turn.

Paula gripped the seat, thinking they were going to flip over.

“What’s happening?” Kieran demanded.

“Oscar’s in the clear,” Rosamund said. “We’re going back.”

“What for? The storm’s going to be here in twenty minutes.”

The jeep had now completed its turn, nose pointing back toward Stakeout Canyon. Rosamund floored the accelerator. “I don’t know.”

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“I have to ask Oscar some questions,” Paula said. “I should be able to find out which of the other two it is.”

“Then what?”

“We might be able to reach the Starflyer agent in time to prevent them from flying. It won’t take much. Your ion carbines can easily disable a hyperglider.”

“But we wouldn’t get clear,” Rosamund growled. “The storm is at its worst in Stakeout Canyon. These jeeps couldn’t take the beating it’d give us in there.”

“I said I’ll drive myself.”

“No you don’t. You can barely stay conscious.”

“Thank you,” Paula said. She flopped back into the seat, and began thinking of the questions she needed to ask.

“Even if we don’t reach the traitor’s hyperglider, the other two will be warned,” Rosamund said. “We have to give them that.”

“It might be enough,” Paula agreed; she could sense the woman’s need to justify what they were doing, the courage she gained from the cause. “I don’t know what the agent is planning on doing. A kamikaze in the glider, possibly, or pushing the others off Aphrodite’s Seat.”

“It’s Adam, you know, he’s helping us.”

“How?”

“He’s looking down from the dreaming heavens, spurring us on.”

Paula didn’t reply. The idea was mildly discomfiting. She based her universe on solid facts. It was easier.

“Aren’t you religious, Investigator?”

“I don’t think I was designed to be, no. You obviously are.”

“I don’t believe in the old religions; but Bradley Johansson actually visited the dreaming heavens. He told the clans what they’re like, what we can look forward to.”

“I see.”

“Don’t believe me,” Rosamund said, laughing. “Ask him yourself afterward.”

“I might just do that.”

They drove on in silence. After a while, Rosamund began to shift the wheel slightly. The ground didn’t seem to be uneven. It hadn’t changed for a long time.

“Wind starting to pick up,” Rosamund said as she caught Paula searching the dusky landscape outside.

“Right.” Paula ordered the jeep’s transmitter to signal again. They should be in range by now. According to the inertial navigation they were level with the entrance to Stakeout Canyon, ready to curve around into it.

“What did you mean, Oscar wasn’t safe from you?” Rosamund asked.

“He and Adam were at Abadan station together; he was part of the terrorist atrocity. Adam knew that if I discovered that I would arrest Oscar.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Time is irrelevant. The people they killed are still dead. Justice must be served. Without that, our civilization would collapse.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“So you really would have tried to arrest Adam after this was over?”

“Yes.”

“We’d have stopped you.”

“Only this time.” Paula’s e-butler told her the jeep’s transmitter had made contact with the three hypergliders. “Oscar, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. We all are. What’s the problem? I thought you’d be clear by now. You have to get out of Stakeout Canyon.”

“Oscar, I’ve been in touch with Bradley Johansson. He told me it was Adam who made contact with you to ask for a review of the
Second Chance
logs, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Investigator, what’s this about?” Wilson asked. “We’re about to fly. And you need to get clear.”

“Oscar, that puts you in the clear,” Paula said. “If you were the Starflyer agent you would have taken him captive.”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“What are you saying?” Wilson asked.

The jeep rocked to one side as it was struck by a sudden gust of wind. Paula tightened her restraint webbing. “It’s either you or Anna.”

“Oh, come on! We’re all navy, we’ve know each other for years. We already decided it’s either you or one of the Guardians. We’re flying to the summit, no matter what you say.”

“You were all on board the
Second Chance,
” Paula said. “Oscar, what did you tell Wilson when you went to him with the evidence? Did you tell him you were contacted by the Guardians?”

“Yes.”

“All right, Wilson, you knew there was a connection between Oscar and the Guardians. Did you tell Anna?”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Did you tell her?” The jeep was swaying about continually now as the winds picked up. Sand was scudding along the ground.

“I … I don’t think so. Anna, do you remember?”

“What did you say to her? Did you discuss the
Second Chance
data?”

“Anna?” Wilson entreated.

“She handled the sensors on
Second Chance,
that gave her easy access to the satellites and the dish. They were her systems; it would be easy for her to cover up any unauthorized use.”

“Anna! Tell her she’s talking crap.”

“Did you tell her Oscar had found the dish deployment?” Paula demanded.

“Anna, for God’s sake.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” Wilson moaned.

“Anna,” Paula said. “I know your carrier wave is on, please respond.”

“She’s my wife.”

The jeep wobbled badly. Rosamund fought the wheel. “We can’t take any more of this,” she grunted. “We’re not going to reach Anna.”

“Damnit,” Paula said. “It can’t be much farther.”

“Investigator, we are going to die if we carry on.” Rosamund’s voice was emotionless. “That’s not going to accomplish anything, is it?”

“All right, turn around,” Paula snapped. Halfway into the turn another gust slammed into them, and she thought they really would flip over this time. Rosamund spun the wheel violently, countering the tilt. Outside, gray light was seeping into the sky to reveal a thick low cloud base that was moving at a daunting speed toward Mount Herculaneum. The jeep steadied. Rosamund was taking them straight toward the base of the canyon wall.

“Anna, respond please,” Paula said.

“Wilson,” Oscar said. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry.”

“She can’t be!” Wilson said. “She can’t. Damnit, she’s perfectly human.”

“I worked with Tarlo for years,” Paula said. “I had no idea.”

“Work?” Wilson spat contemptuously. “I married her. I loved her.”

“Wilson, Oscar, you have to decide what you’re going to do now. I know this is hard, Wilson, but I expect she will try to crash into one of you.”

“We’ll leave a gap between unhooking from the tether,” Oscar said. “That way she can only go after one of us.”

“That sounds viable.” Paula desperately wanted to offer some practical advice, but she couldn’t even think on how to improve Oscar’s suggestion. She saw the edge of the canyon approaching fast. There was sand under the tires again. Big worn outcrops of rock were cluttered along the base of the canyon wall. Rosamund steered them around a dark jag of abraded lava and braked in its lee; she raised the suspension so the rim settled on the ground. “I hope this is deep enough,” she said as she switched on the jeep’s emergency anchors. The screws on the chassis started to wind down into the hard-packed sand with a strident metallic whine.

“Good luck, both of you,” Paula said.

Rosamund cut the mike and faced Paula. “You didn’t tell him you know about Abadan.”

“Oscar has enough to worry about right now. I didn’t want to impede his effectiveness. He’ll find out if he survives.”

“I don’t know about the Starflyer, but you frighten the living crap out of me.”

“She didn’t know.” Oscar repeated the phrase like a mantra; he’d lost count of how many times he’d said it now. The emptiness of human silence was oppressive and demoralizing as the furious wind rose in counterpoint around the hyperglider. A sense of isolation was folding around him like the caress of interstellar space. Anna: lost beyond redemption goodness knows how many years or decades before. While Wilson had withdrawn into a private hell of anguish and grief. “The human part of her was drawn to you. That’s still alive.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Wilson answered curtly. “I’ve had wives before.”

“Not like this, man; we saw flashes of the real Anna. She’s still there. Lost. She can be re-lifed and her memories edited.”

“After we kill her now. Is that it?”

Oscar winced. The whole conversation was made even more disquieting by the little emerald symbol shining in the corner of his virtual vision showing that Anna was still on the air, receiving everything they said.
Maybe silence is best.
“What do you want to do?” he asked warily. Wisps of fine sand were drifting past the cockpit, whipped up from the wet desert out beyond the gaping canyon mouth.

“Get to Aphrodite’s Seat. That’s what we’re here for. That’s what we do.”

Oscar resisted letting out a long breath of relief. At least his friend was starting to focus. That was the thing about Wilson, an ability to put the human element aside while he made choices. It was probably what made him so good at command. The parallel between that and Starflyer agents was one Oscar didn’t like to think of.

“We’ll get there,” Oscar said. “After all, there’s not that much she can do.”

“You think?”

Oscar was very close to turning his radio off and just keeping the hyperglider on the ground while the storm raged.
The universe can survive without me, surely? Just this once.
If he could just do what Wilson did and turn off his emotions.

The hyperglider shook as the wind strengthened around it. Overhead, the gray clouds had merged into an unbroken rumpled ceiling above the stark canyon. “Whatever you want to do, I’m with you,” he told Wilson. It was a cop-out and he knew it, transfer responsibility to someone else. But then that’s what he’d been doing ever since Abadan.

He checked the weather radar with its false-color mating jellyfish patterns. The whole cockpit was juddering now, wobbling the images on the little screen. It showed him a salmon-pink tide of wind channeled by the overbearing walls of Stakeout Canyon and reaching close to a hundred miles an hour. Somewhere in the invisible distance ahead of the hyperglider’s nose, the stormfront had reached the base of Mount Herculaneum.

“Confirmed go status,” Wilson responded with toneless dispassion.

Oscar smiled tenderly at the absolute professionalism; in his own fashion Wilson was showing him the way.
Okay, if that’s what it takes to do this, I’m game.
“Roger that. I’m beginning ascent phase.”

He brought his hands down on the console’s i-spots, gripping the concave handholds. Plyplastic flowed over his wrists, mooring them into place for the flight. His e-butler reported a perfect interface with the hyperglider’s onboard array.

Oscar put Anna aside and allowed the memories to come to the fore. Not his memories, but the skill belonged to him now, merging him with the hyperglider. A red and violet virtual hand gripped the joystick that had materialized in front of him. His other hand skipped across the glowing icons.

The plyplastic wing buds began to flow, extending out from the fuselage into a simple delta configuration. Oscar was rattled from side to side in the cockpit as they caught the wind. He disengaged the forward tether lock, and the hyperglider leaped about wildly. His own sparse piloting knowledge buoyed by the recent skill implants helped him counter the movement with relative ease, keeping the craft as level as possible.

He allowed the front and rear tether strands to unwind, and adjusted the wings to provide some lift. The hyperglider began to rise away from the floor of the canyon, tugging hard at the cables as the wind tore at the fuselage. Once he was fifty meters high he adjusted the tail fin into a long vertical stabilizer. The shaking began to lose its urgency, though the howl of the wind outside was still growing. Oscar expanded the wings farther, deepening the camber to generate more direct lift. With the tether cables reporting a huge strain, he began spooling them out at a measured rate, scrupulously keeping his ascent at the recommended pace. This was not the time, he decided, for cutting corners, no matter what the stakes.

Tatters of mist shot past the cockpit, twined into a sheath that restricted his visual range to little more than twenty meters. Rain was battering aggressively into the fuselage with loud drumbeat reverberations. As he climbed higher the cables began shaking with unlikely harmonics. He was constantly adjusting the wings to try to keep the hyperglider stable.