The Deep Link (The Ascendancy Trilogy Book 1) (26 page)

"Madam Governor," Commander Kempton greets the
middle-aged woman on his projector. She has straight black hair and an ashen
face. Looks tired as hell. "I assume you were busy with critical
matters?"

"Of course," she says curtly. "What can I
do for you, Commander? Is there something wrong with my monthly reports?"

"I'm just worried about the situation down
there," Kempton says politely. Juliana De Luca is just as sharp as he is;
not easy to manipulate. Her time as a governor won't last much longer, though.
Kempton will see to that.

"What
exactly
are you worried about?" De
Luca asks.

"The past couple of months have seen increased
terrorist activity. I'm sure you agree this can't be allowed to continue."

She frowns. "I'm not aware of any terrorism."

"Of course not." Kempton smiles. De Luca presses
her lips tight. "With regard to that, I've received a new
commission." Kempton studies her reactions. "Hades will take direct
responsibility of Erano until safety is restored."

De Luca struggles with her temper. "I don't see any
demand for such a drastic measure, Commander."

"I assure you, there is."

"What you call 'terrorism' I know to be mere
disquiet, nothing Erano hasn't dealt with before."

"We've registered multiple acts of sabotage against
important TMC facilities," Kempton says smoothly. "And confiscated
sensitive,
incriminating
material, interrogated people and traced
illegal accesses into a maze of underground activity... We have ample reason to
believe this 'disquiet' is driven in an organized and premeditated fashion.
That's rather the definition of terrorism, ma'am."

"I doubt the problem is as critical as you believe,
Commander," De Luca says, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"But it is. Only a few minutes ago our AIs picked up
an unauthorized call to your office, Madam Governor." Her lips twitch.
"Were our AIs mistaken?"

"That was nothing relevant, Commander. A deranged
woman making ridiculous claims."

"Oh? What claims?"

De Luca shrugs. "Aliens watching us. An impending war
that could lead to the decimation of the Confederacy.
Insane
things.
Nothing I haven't heard before." Kempton lifts a lazy eyebrow. "You
see, Commander, there's nothing to worry about. Isolated incidents and
lunatics. Nothing of real consequence. And the riots and strikes are a matter
between the unions and the Confederacy. There's no need for the TMC to
intervene in colony business."

"I disagree, ma'am. As do my superiors. And we have
right of command with regard to all major security issues, as conveyed by the
Confederacy."

"You call this a major security issue?" De Luca
blurts nervously.

"It only matters what
they
call it, ma'am. I'm
just following orders. As should you." De Luca bristles. "I
personally appreciate your devotion to the city," Kempton continues.
"And I assure you this takeover is only temporary. The TMC will take good
care of Erano in your absence."

"Is there anything else I can offer you, Commander?
Apart
from my job?"

"No, ma'am, that will be all. I'll send my First
Lieutenant down in the morning. Thank you for your understanding."

De Luca cuts the connection, and Kempton immediately asks
for her com's records to be sieved.

Sitting at his desk in the Hades command tower, Kempton
stares out the reinforced window at the bustle below. Three hundred officers
and fifty-seven ships of various sizes are preparing for an intervention in
case the ground forces can't get things under control. Kempton hopes he won't
have to do it. It'll look bad on his record.

And De Luca's alleged prank call is nothing but crackling
white noise. Her techs must have gotten really good to pull off this level of
encryption. It must contain highly sensitive information—why else would she
encrypt it? He orders his intelligence center to take the record apart until he
knows just what the hell the call was really about. And who was on the other
end. He can't shake the feeling there's far more to it than just a crazy person
calling about an alien conspiracy. The old crow was too nervous. Kempton long
ago learned not to trust anyone who flinches when asked direct questions. It's
a skill that will serve him well as governor.

Edric D. Kempton, Governor of Erano
.

Elating thought. Finally a fitting opportunity to put all
his potential to use. No more standing at the ready, no more drills and tedious
trainings, no more 'Yes, sir!' 'No, sir!' 'Whatever you fucking want, sir!'
From now on, it'll be the other way around. 'Yes, Governor.' 'Of course,
Governor.' 'Have a wonderful day, Governor.' Too bad it's a temporary takeover.

He wouldn't have expected De Luca to stand down so easily
though. Not given her history. What if her quickness to surrender is a blind
for something else?

Now, now, Edric
.
You're getting as paranoid as
Hurst
. Kempton shakes his head.

Speaking of Hurst, he still has to call the old bastard
and report on his progress with the Syndicate. What should he tell him? That
the propaganda war has escalated into direct sabotage of TMC facilities within
a week? That those damn terrorists have already stolen weapons, ammo, and
critical tech right from under his nose?

No, he'll keep his report lean.

If Hurst had his way, he'd have to deploy the Razers and
have those monstrous androids wipe the city clean. It's no wonder Hurst was
called 'The Slayer' behind his back in the Academy. Kempton won't let him ruin
his prospect of political advancement over a bunch of radicals. That's all the
Syndicate goons are: radicals with absurd ideals. They're fools to think they
stand a chance against the TMC.

Unless
they actually have an ace up their sleeve.
S
omething the TMC doesn't know, and can't prepare for.
Kempton can't get that call out of his head. What did De Luca say? Something
about aliens watching Erano? A war that would decimate the Confederacy?
Which
aliens would go to war with the TMC? The only semi-intelligent species found so
far are the Dorylinae, and Hurst made sure they couldn't become a threat long
ago. It must be a different—a
new
—species.

Kempton darts up from his desk, sending his hover-chair
flying backwards against the wall. He calls up one of Erano's TMC hubs. A
woman's head appears above his desk, her tattooed eyebrows raised in surprise.
Kempton peers at the name underneath. "Lieutenant Dresden. You reported
something about a non-compliant citizen with aberrant RNA?"

"Er, yes, sir." She checks her records.
"Something about the woman's readings were odd. She refused to be properly
identified, then ran away. Unfortunately I couldn't apprehend her, sir."
The lieutenant looks mortified. "But I managed to rip some hairs out in a
fight. I had them analyzed, sir."

"Continue," Kempton says. He hasn't read the
full report, but the mention of unusual RNA stuck with him.

"We found residual neurotransmitters of
unidentifiable type. We couldn't match them with any record available in the
TMC's xeno-database either."

"You sure they're not mutations, or something
synthetic?"

"I had two separate geneticists inspect them before I
filed the report, sir." She's visibly proud of her thoroughness. "The
samples are absolutely alien and organic. I can't imagine anyone with the
technology to engineer artificial quantum-entangled RNA sequences. I mean, we
certainly don't have that technology, but—"

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Kempton's mind is
already racing through a maze of distressing possibilities.

"Yes, sir. You're welcome, sir." She salutes
stiffly. Kempton kills the line.

Dark thoughts circle in his mind like a growing tornado.
The unidentified alien RNA; a suspect call to De Luca's office about aliens and
war; the increasing Syndicate activity of late—they're all connected. Something
big is brewing, right in the heart of his colony.

If the Syndicate's made an ally of some new alien race—one
that can help them take on the TMC... Then De Luca could just be waiting for
him to get in the governor's chair so he can take the brunt of it. And maybe
that's why Hurst is so desperate to bury the Syndicate quick and dirty...

Hurst
. If anyone's in the know about a new alien
species prowling around human space, it's that xenophobic, paranoid bastard.

"Why so broody, sir?" Kempton startles. He
frowns at Bosco, who's managed to sneak up on him, and retrieves his chair. The
lieutenant commander closes the door, and comes to sit on the corner of
Kempton's desk. "The standby is going well, so far." He crosses his
arms over his chest, looking down at Kempton.

"Tell me, Bosco, have you noticed anything odd in
long-range communications recently?"

"Like what?"

"News of a new discovery, a new planet, or relic?
Maybe additional scouts deployed to a particular region, probes or ships gone
missing without explanation—"

"Like the drones in Tau Ceti?"

Fuck
! He'd forgotten all about them. "What did
the Falcon report? The one we sent to investigate."

"We can't reach it," Bosco says, somewhat
embarrassed. "I've ordered a Bateleur to prep for a recovery mission—if
that's ok with you, Commander."

Kempton nods, chewing on his lower lip. He takes a long,
deep breath. "I think we're in deep shit. Shit the size of which might
bury us, Bosco. Shit we're not equipped to deal with. If I'm right, the Dabaran
Syndicate has made some powerful new friends. And they're going to attack.
Soon
."

"What friends?"

"A new alien race. One powerful enough to go to war
against us."

Bosco stares back at him, dumbfounded.

Kempton's thoughts darken still further as more pieces of
a terrible puzzle fall into place. "I think Hurst knows about it. His
fleet hasn't reported anything back to Alpha Centauri over the past months. No
acquisition lists, no crew exchanges, not even an insubordination
report—nothing. Instead, an R&D vessel that was supposed to fly out to 49
Librae suddenly changes course and flies to Sigma Serpentis, the general's last
whereabouts." The tornado in Kempton's mind dissolves into sudden clarity,
revealing the apocalyptic landscape underneath, and his jaw drops. "That
egotistic motherfucker's met the aliens already, Bosco.
They
took down
his fleet. That's why he's so obsessed with Preston and the Syndicate. He's
trying to extirpate a new evil."

"I think you're going a
little
over the top,
here," Bosco says. "This is all speculation." Kempton glares at
him. Bosco reflexively straightens up, sitting at attention. "Sorry, sir.
I just doubt there's something that massive going on."

"What if I told you I've got a solid reason to
believe there is?" Bosco raises an eyebrow. "There's a woman here in
Erano leaving traces of alien RNA behind her. Nothing in our database matches
it." Kempton taps his fingers anxiously on the tabletop. "I believe
she
called De Luca, and she was speaking the truth."

"Well I don't know what phone call you're referring
to," Bosco replies, confused. "And I have a hard time believing all
this. But if you've got real evidence, maybe we should report this."

"We can't report anything just yet," Kempton
jumps. The thought of some general being assigned to take over—to take away his
only chance at becoming governor, and not just as a temporary takeover—makes
him tremble. "We have to investigate further."

"Alright, sir. I'll go see what I can do." Bosco
salutes rather hurriedly and leaves.

Kempton once again stares out the window, over his troops.
It may be necessary to send them out even sooner than he'd imagined. But even
if he deploys the Razers along with them, it might not be enough.

-

Hurst nods at the projection. "Thank you, Lieutenant
Commander."

"I wish I didn't have to do this," Bosco says.
"But a matter like this goes beyond personal loyalties."

Hurst smiles dryly. "Absolutely right. I will
remember this. And you will be rewarded accordingly, Lieutenant
Commander."

"Thank you, sir."

The projector winks off, and Hurst's jaw clenches.
That
conniving little shit
. Kempton's never mentioned any of this. Hurst slams
his palm down on the table.

It can't be a coincidence. It must all have something to
do with that ship he saw during the Cyan attack. There's no doubt about it:
aliens have intruded into human space and are making a fool of him and the
entire TMC, hiding in plain sight, planning hell-knows-what. If Kempton were
the only obstacle in their way, everything would go to shit.

But Hurst still has a hand in this game.

He orders the
Hawkyns
to head straight toward Epsilon
Eridani. The R&D ship will take almost ten times longer for those ninety
light years than even the slowest warship, and it has only standard defensive
weapons aboard, but it'll have to do. When he gets to Hades, he won't need it
anymore anyway.

Doctor Begum's theory that the Cyans use inferior
creatures as an energy source to multiply, and the more intelligent ones as
puppets, has been confirmed. The
reason
the Cyans do so, however,
remains a subject of speculation. Hurst suspects they may have been created as
an enslavement tool during combat. An ingenious idea, really, using fallen
enemy soldiers to increase your own ranks. Devious aliens, whoever created
those things. Not someone to face unprepared.

But thanks to Begum, the little demons are
his
toy
now.
His
secret weapon. All he has to do is fine-tune it and prep it for
usage.

Hurst calls Personnel Administration to ask that every
single officer aboard report back with an updated med file. He asks for their
personal records too, family ties, scheduled trainings, additional orders from
other generals—anything that might require or tempt them to contact someone
off-ship. The PAs are to single out anyone who's untied, and send their records
down to Level Seven. Time to take Begum's experiments to the next level.