The Glorious Becoming (18 page)

“Canrassi meat. It has been too long since I have tasted. That will suffice for the time being.”

“Fine. I’ll have some for you tomorrow. It’s deserved.” Turning away from the Bakma prisoner, Archer paused by the door. “If you think of anything, if you remember anything, please let me know. No time is too early or late.”

“There will be nothing,” Nharassel said without looking. “But I hear what you say.”

The discouragement in Archer’s face was evident, but he made no further remark. Turning quietly, the British judge exited the cell.

* * *

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

B
LAKE AND
J
UNE
arrived at Archer’s door simultaneously, hurrying inside while Mendoza stood post in the hallway. Rath was already there, standing awkwardly along the wall while Archer bustled about frenetically. The moment he saw the new arrivals, he threw a stack of papers on his table and looked at Mendoza. “I want you in here, too, Hector. Come in and close the door.”

“What in the world’s going on?” asked June.

Walking to Archer’s table, Rath picked up the topmost paper. Scanning it, he looked at Archer quizzically. “Colonel Brent Lilan? Falcon Platoon? What’s this all about?” He looked at the next paper. “Major John Tacker. These are all dossiers.”

“My fellow conspirators,” said Archer, his voice trembling faintly. “We have...an opportunity.”

Blake and June swapped wary looks.

“Kang intercepted a message this morning from General Hutchin of
Richmond
, intended for Pauling. The Ceratopian vessel—the one with H`laar’s loyalists—was isolated by that unit, Falcon Platoon. After the mission, their colonel met with Hutchin to discuss his belief that the vessel’s crash was not accidental, as reported, but due to neutron fire from a separate Ceratopian ship.” Panicked looks struck the others’ faces. “Colonel Lilan went so far as to suggest the possibility of multiple factions amongst the Ceratopian species. Hutchin wants Pauling to investigate.”

“Oh my God, that was
last week
,” said Rath quickly. “Did this message make it to Pauling?”

“No. Apparently, Hutchin didn’t consider it credible enough to reach the top of his priority list. He only sent it Sunday night. It never got past Kang’s filter.”

“Pauling can’t be allowed to know about this,” Rath said. “If he looks into this and finds something worth poking around for...”

“We need Colonel Lilan and his whole platoon to disappear,” said Archer. “Falcon Platoon is comprised mostly of young soldiers, many of whom are alphas. That means they’re inexperienced and eager, which means if word of this trickles down to the lower ranks, which it may already have, they’re going to talk. To friends, to family, to anyone who’ll lend an ear. Before we know it, Lilan will be discussing this in press conferences.”

June crossed her arms contemplatively. “We could use an interception. A false callout. Dispatch them somewhere isolated—a swamp. Blame it on purported Noboat signatures, report of a possible landing, or
something,
then have a squadron of Superwolves meet them halfway.”

Rath nodded absently. “You could have a Vulture happen to be passing through there at the time. Land it at the scene to take care of survivors.”

Before anything else could be said, Blake lifted his hand. “Hold on please, for one moment. Are we actually talking about
assassinating a platoon
? Lying to a major facility, sending a unit on a false callout, then
shooting them down
?”

“If it must be done,” said June.

“Listen. This goes beyond strategic organization. This is becoming
actively involved
in tangible operations. This is the hand of God reaching through the clouds and smiting the poor soul beneath.”

Archer eyed Blake for a moment, then looked to everyone else. “Are any of us not prepared for that step?” After no one replied, he looked at Blake again.

The black Briton held out his hands peaceably. “I’m only making sure we’re actually talking about what we’re talking about. This is drastic. This should not be taken lightly.”

“This is drastic on infinite levels,” said Archer. “There’s the public, the media, Pauling pushing back his retirement to cement his legacy by investigating a breakthrough. Right now, the population lives in a world of black and white, where the Ceratopians are evil, and that’s the end of it. Things need to stay that way at all costs.”

Blake interrupted gently, cleared his throat. “You said when we walked in that we had an
opportunity
. What did you mean by that, exactly?”

“I’m about to tell you,” Archer answered, eyeing Blake specifically. “As well as answer your question from yesterday. As you all know, for the past several months, we have been ‘collecting’ aircraft from
Novosibirsk
. It is time to tell you why.”

Mendoza raised a hand. “We have? I did not know this.”

“You weren’t in that conversation,” said June scrupulously. “If you could even call it a conversation.”

“The ships are
here
?”

Shaking his head, Archer answered, “No, Hector. They’re being kept off-site. This isn’t something the rest of Command know.”

“Oh.”

Archer’s gaze returned to the others. “On numerous occasions, we have attempted to draw attention to General Thoor and
Novosibirsk
, and on numerous occasions, the Council have failed to take action. Thoor ignored our new regulations, without reprimand. He even massacred our agents in front of Malcolm and Carol’s very eyes. His punishment? President Pauling began a transfer procedure to remove all EDEN personnel from
Novosibirsk
, essentially handing Thoor the base on a silver platter. It has been made abundantly clear that treasonous acts alone are insufficient to make the Council take action. So we’re going to up the ante.”

The others listened intently.

“Over the past several months, we have collected four Vindicators and two Vultures from
Novosibirsk
, essentially waiting for ships to be damaged enough to be discarded or sent in for repair. We then routed the ships to a private hangar instead of
Atlanta
. My plan was to use these vessels, all registered to
Novosibirsk
, to assault a civilian target.” The others sat erect. “If treasonous acts won’t affect the Council, perhaps terrorist ones will.”

“Now wait a second,” said June, “you said that
this
was an opportunity. Are you suggesting that we assault Falcon Platoon with these ships?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

June held back a smirk. “I love this plan.”

“The glory of this is that the blame goes directly to Thoor,” Archer said.

June raised a hand. “But wait. Why would Thoor attack
this
platoon? He’d have to have a reason to single them out.”

“Oh, believe me,” answered Archer. “He will.” Moving some of the papers aside, he selected the dossier at the bottom, holding it out for June to see.

Her eyes widened. “You
must
be joking.”

“Joking, I am not,” said Archer, walking back to the room’s forefront. “Strom Faerber is being assigned to Falcon Platoon.” When Strom’s name was mentioned, the whole room tensed. “I helped organize this some time ago. Klaus wanted him somewhere low profile, out of danger. He arrives on base today.”

His displeasure apparent, Blake paced. “You want to talk about problems on infinite levels? Kill Strom Faerber and that qualifies tenfold. How is Klaus going to react?”

“Exactly like we need him to,” answered Archer. “Anger, rage, hostility—everything we need directed at
Novosibirsk
. If we get the face of EDEN to turn on The Machine, public opinion will support a military operation.” He folded his arms. “Our job is to control the dissemination of information as it suits our needs. We deny any mission orders were sent to Falcon Platoon. We claim the dispatch originated from
Novosibirsk
on a hijacked EDEN Command frequency, and we back it up by saying, ‘here are the serial numbers of all hostile vessels, all registered at
Novosibirsk
.’ Lilan and Falcon are silenced, with the added bonus of having Vector on our side. The world turns on Thoor, and we launch a
justified
full-scale military assault on The Machine.”

Pressing his palms against his forehead, Blake said, “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

“These are the kinds of steps we’ve discussed before. It’s natural to be apprehensive before taking them.”

“This is diving headfirst,” answered Blake. “But if it’s truly an opportunity to pin blame on Thoor, we must take advantage. Even I won’t deny that.”

“We absolutely must.”

“Then I support it.”

A relieved smile appeared on Archer’s face. He stood erect. “Everyone be prepared. When news breaks out, it’s going to be big. Be ready to handle the media, Carol.”

“I always am.”

“My friends,” said Archer, “this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The culmination of our time and effort. It measures beyond us, into the scope of our entire species and existence. This is our coronation, our becoming...and it shall be
glorious
.” He smiled disarmingly. “There’s no need to meet about this again. We implement the plan, and we react accordingly. Kang and I will oversee the investigation.”

Nothing was said by the other judges as they made their way into the halls, still secured by the posted deputies. The lone exception was Carol June. The auburn-haired judge lingered behind until she and Archer were alone.

“It’s hard to fluster Malcolm Blake,” she said mirthfully. “Nice job.”

“He’s a professional.” Glancing out of his doorway, Archer ensured that Blake was nowhere near. “He’s not accustomed to improvisation like this.”

She smirked. “Then he’d better get accustomed, shouldn’t he?” Without another word, June made her departure.

Stepping into the hallway, Archer closed the door to his suite behind him, the security latch engaging as soon as the door was shut. Walking straight away from the wing of judges’ suites, he marched toward Intelligence. As promised, no more meetings were called.

* * *

THAT NIGHT

S
PRIG SMOKE FILLED
Judge Torokin’s suite as the mixed scents of mint, tobacco, and hazelnut filtered through the air. The four men—Judges Torokin, Grinkov, Lena, and the newly arrived Sasha Kireev—were seated around a small circular table, cards in all but Lena’s hand for a night of preferans.

Preferans was a Russian card game—one forced upon Lena, the sole American of the crew, by his two Russian counterparts from the Council. It was one of the few games that was meant to be played with only three people, making it a perfect fit for the trio of judges. With Sasha as a guest, Lena had been relegated to the role of dealer—at least for this round.

“Six in seconds,” proclaimed Torokin from Lena’s left. It was a bid, with
seconds
a reference to the suit of clubs—the second lowest suit in the game. The hierarchy went spades, clubs, diamonds, then hearts. Torokin was betting that he could win six sets, or
tricks
. Six was the minimum allowable wager.

“Pass,” said Grinkov.

Sasha eyed his hand in silence. Only after several faint facial twitches did he announce his bid. “Seven in fourths.”

Both Russian judges raised their eyebrows. “Seven in fourths?” asked Torokin. It was an extremely high bid—one that wagered Sasha would win seven tricks with the heart suit and whatever else was in his hand. On the flip side, Torokin and Grinkov only had to win two. “I defend,” said Torokin. “I want to see seven in fourths.”

“I defend,” said Grinkov.

Lena nodded. “Then seven in fourths it is.”

“Diamond’s the trump,” said Sasha.

“Makes a lot of sense,” the American said sarcastically.

“If you are bluffing,” Torokin said, looking at Sasha, “you are not a good bluffer.”

The Vector scout smiled. “Who says I am bluffing? Put down your first card.”

Torokin laid down an eight of hearts. Grinkov placed a six. After a short pause, Sasha placed down a nine. Smiling, the scout pointed at his temple and claimed the cards. “Trick number one.”

Torokin exhaled a plume of hazelnut. “I still do not believe it. I have too many hearts for you to have enough, and I know Dmitri must have some.”

“And how many hearts do you have?” Sasha asked.

“I have three more. I had four hearts total out of a possible nine, and Dmitri had at least one. That is five out of nine, at least, and diamond is the trump. You had better have a lot of diamonds.”

Sasha chuckled. “Just make your play.”

Preferans had always been popular in Russia, dating back from the pre-Soviet years of the Old Era all the way to the Soviet Recapture. Outside of Eastern Europe, few others knew of the game—or knew it well enough to compete. It was a simple concept with notoriously complicated scoring.

As play continued on, the conversation shifted. “So, I have a question for the three of you,” Sasha said. “You all know why Captain Faerber wanted someone to address the Council. It is because of these new regulations. And I know from the captain that these new regulations were put in place to test the loyalty of General Thoor. He heard this from you, correct?” he asked Torokin.

Grinkov and Lena eyed Torokin, who sighed red-handedly.

Sasha went on. “What exactly is the Council’s plan for
Novosibirsk
? Has the test worked?”

There was a span of silence before Judge Lena answered. “If by
worked
you mean shown us that Thoor couldn’t care less what we do, and that he’ll stab us in the back—”

“Or the front,” interjected Grinkov.

“—at the drop of a hat, then yes, the regulations worked.”

The scout nodded. “So is there still a need for the regulations? It is the captain’s belief that, had these regulations not been in place, Stockholm and Copenhagen could have been...well, not avoided, but lessened.”