The Machine Awakes (13 page)

Cait made it to her feet. She wobbled slightly. She clenched her fists by her side, willing herself to stay calm. “I've done exactly what you wanted,” she said, nodding over to where her rifle was in pieces. “So, where is he?”

Flood and Glass exchanged a look that lasted more than a few seconds. Cait took a step toward Flood, gritting her teeth, staring the woman down. The two men with guns—Curran and Schwab—lifted their weapons, but Cait saw Glass gesturing at the pair to lower them.

“Where's my brother?”
Cait yelled. “You promised me you'd take me to him!”

Flood didn't react to Cait's outburst except to raise a single eyebrow. It was all Cait could do to stop herself from taking a swing at the smug bitch.

And why the hell couldn't she talk to him now? Her power had been dampened by drugs, she assumed—was that it? No, she hadn't heard from her brother since … well, since waking up in the high-rise, however long ago that was. She had no way of telling.

No, there was something else, some other reason for his silence.

Flood tilted her head to the other side. “We will,” she said. “We will.”

“So where is he? Why isn't he here?”

“All in good time, Ms. Smith,” said Glass.

Cait shook her head. She glanced around the group again. The guns. The uniforms. Something wasn't adding up. She rubbed her forehead. “For all I know you're a bunch of secret Fleet agents running some kind of black op, with me in the middle, ready to take the fall. The perfect set-up—”

Flood struck Cait across the face with enough force to knock her back onto the floor. Cait gasped as her tailbone connected with the hard ground, the pain from that drowning out the searing heat that spread from one side of her face to another.

“When you speak to a High Priestess you will show
respect,
” said Flood. Her expression was dark. Very, very dark.

Cait felt the side of her face with her fingers. The skin was unbroken, but it hurt like hell. But …

“Priestess?”

Careful.

Cait started, looked around. A voice in her head. Her brother? No, it was different, it sounded like …

Cait glanced at Glass. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Flood stepped forward, towering over Cait.

“You follow the Morning Star now,” she said. She turned and waved at the others. “This is taking too long. Get her ready.”

Cait stood up again. “Ready for what?” she asked Flood's back.

The black-clad men moved forward. Cait backed away until her legs hit the chair. One of the men was holding a thin silver wand, like a pen. Or like a hypodermic.

Cait met Glass's gaze. “Ready for
what?
” she screamed at him. Then she tripped over the chair behind her, just as she was grabbed by Flood's men.

She struggled and cried out, and there was a sharp, hot sensation in her neck, and then there was nothing.

 

14

“I trust this investigation
will be run with the utmost expediency, Agents.” Admiral Zworykin paced back and forth in front of Avalon, Kodiak, and Braben, who stood side by side in the Fleet Admiral's private office. Kodiak felt Avalon bristle beside him as her rank and authority were figuratively reduced to nothing in front of her two staffers by the arrogant bluster of the Fleet's new CIC.

Kodiak frowned as he watched the Fleet Admiral. He was an impressive figure, exuding authority and power, his back ramrod straight, his chest filling out the black uniform of the Psi-Marine Corps, but Kodiak didn't like him. Less than ten minutes into their audience, the first time he'd ever met the man, and Kodiak had already decided. The only way to describe the Admiral was “intense,” with his dark hair, dark eyes, and a scowl perpetually on his face. Avalon had told both him and Braben about what had gone down at the Fleet Command Council meeting, when Zworykin had removed his predecessor, Sebela, from power. Zworykin's behavior then had been arrogant, even conceited. Kodiak thought he could see shades of that in the Fleet Admiral today, but there was also a burning impatience and annoyance.

True enough, he had been thrust into an unusual, stressful situation, suddenly having to deal with a crisis of historic proportions on literally his first day on the job, his assumption of command announced in a public address just a few hours earlier. Kodiak could only imagine the kind of bureaucratic nightmare the Admiral had become mired in.

Kodiak shifted his weight. Behind his back, he squeezed his interlocked fingers until they hurt.

Unless, he thought, Zworykin was responsible. In which case, the bluster, the annoyance, was a bluff for their benefit. Kodiak found himself wondering what Zworykin had meant, just now. A fast investigation … just standard military efficiency, or was he looking to have this all swept under the carpet?

And, if he
was
behind it all, then he would have a contingency. A plan to counter the Bureau's investigation. The wheels would be turning already.

Kodiak wondered how much time they really had to get to the bottom of the mystery. Then again, they were at an advantage—Kodiak's status kept him off the records. Anything he looked into, he wouldn't leave a trace. It was logical to assume Zworykin would be tracking the investigation himself, making sure he kept ahead. But with Kodiak—now Avalon's anonymous consultant analyst—the Bureau had a significant advantage.

If
the Fleet Admiral was responsible.

Kodiak glanced to his left. The office had a huge window wall, overlooking the Fleet Capitol Complex and the central quarter of New Orem. Brilliant morning light poured in, casting a bright, wide oblong across the floor between the three of them, and the Admiral. Kodiak glanced down at it, considering how accurately it represented the barrier between the investigation and the head of the Fleet. Kodiak glanced at Avalon, standing next to him. The sunlight caught her long red hair, her whole outline glowing.

“Of course, sir,” said the chief. “The Bureau will use every resource we have available. Special Agent Braben has full authority under my special powers provision. Analyst Amell is a specialist we have brought in to assist.”

Kodiak felt his throat tighten. Amell was his new cover identity—the Bureau had hundreds of these prepared, each with a long, entirely fake, history seeded through Fleet records. The Fleet Command Council knew about this, of course, and Kodiak was sure the military arm had a similar program in place. But there was no reason for Zworykin to be suspicious. No reason for him not to take Commander Avalon's word.

Zworykin stopped pacing. He looked Kodiak up and down, gave a
hmmm,
then moved to stand by the window wall. He gazed out at the city for a moment, squinting into the light.

Then, without turning, he said, “Your supposition is understandable, but your theory spurious.”

Kodiak exchanged a look with Avalon, with Braben. He had to keep quiet, falling into his role as the consultant, but the Admiral's comment caught him by surprise. They hadn't voiced any particular theory yet, but it appeared that Zworykin was already suspicious.

So what was this? A double bluff? The guilty deliberately protesting? Or was Zworykin innocent and simply stating the truth?

Braben, as official head of the investigation, took a deep breath. “So it wasn't you eliminating the opposition?”

Kodiak winced. He might have put it in slightly different terms. He glanced at Avalon. She looked back at him, her eyebrow raised.

Zworykin turned from the window, a thin smile on his face as he faced Braben. “I had already eliminated the opposition, as you put it, when I relieved Admiral Sebela of his duty. He had failed the Fleet, Agent. Remember that. What I did, I did for
all
of us. We can afford no more failures, no more rash experiments like the Shadow Protocol. Change was needed, and not a moment too soon.” He took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back, head held high. “But I was not involved with Sebela's death.”

Kodiak scratched his cheek. He glanced at Braben, who nodded, giving “Consultant Analyst Amell” permission to speak.

“But, sir,” said Kodiak, “having Admiral Sebela killed was, at the very least, convenient, right? I mean, there's no risk he could gather his supporters, push you out again, right? His faction is thrown into chaos, which only serves to strengthen your own loyalists.”

Kodiak held his breath. Had he gone too far? Maybe. But now wasn't the time to pussyfoot around. Zworykin had brought it up himself. So why not confront the issue head-on?

Zworykin laughed and turned back to the window. He gestured to the expanse of New Orem beyond. “As I said, Agent, your supposition is understandable. Logical, even. The impact of Sebela's assassination is beneficial to my own position. That is a fact I cannot deny. But, as I have already said, I have no connection to the murder. The assassin, whether acting alone or in concert with some other groups, is out
there
somewhere.” Zworykin pointed to the window.

That was when it shattered, the entire wall exploding inwards.

Kodiak recoiled, turning instinctively from the shower of glass that seemed to fill the office. As he turned, he saw Commander Avalon dive for Braben, but as Braben was pulled around, a shard of glass sliced through the arm of his suit, leaving a bright red trail. Kodiak ducked his head and curled his back to the explosion as hundreds of the shards pummeled his armored vest. He crabbed sideways toward the other two, thinking he could shield them … but then it was over. Braben and Avalon were crouched on the floor, Kodiak standing over them as a stiff wind whipped smoke, glass dust, and thin plastiform files from the Admiral's desk into the air around him. Already he could hear Avalon yelling into the comm on the collar of her uniform as the doors to the office burst open, the two marines on guard rushing in, weapons raised. An alarm screamed, but was nearly drowned out by the sound of the wind.

“This is Commander Avalon, L, one-triple-nine-double-zero. Initiate full security lockdown on the Capitol Complex itself. Nobody gets in or out. Confirm please.”

Kodiak spun around, fearing the worst. And he was right.

Zworykin lay on his back in front of his desk. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, and there was a long seeping line of red down the side of his face. In the center of his forehead was a black circle. As Kodiak watched, the pool of blood under Zworykin's head grew.

The marines pushed Kodiak aside as they checked Zworykin's body. Kodiak felt Braben's hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” asked the agent, raising his voice in Kodiak's ear so he could be heard.

Kodiak just shook his head. He turned to Avalon. The chief had her staser pistol out and was by the wall, peering out, her other arm shielding her face.

Kodiak jogged over to her.

“I guess that proves it wasn't him, then,” she said. She gestured with her gun. “The shooter must have been positioned somewhere over there.”

Kodiak followed Avalon's line. The Capitol Complex was a complicated collection of buildings, some low, some the tallest skyscrapers in New Orem, occupying a sizeable chunk of city real estate. The Fleet Admiral's office faced west, looking out toward the Fleet Memorial, a vast patch of green visible between the city buildings, stretching to the horizon. Other structures in the Capitol Complex were clustered around either side of the office block they were in, curving around to form a plaza at street level below. Directly across from the office was a large, wide building with a flat roof.

Kodiak looked back toward Zworykin's body. The direction he had been thrown, the angle of the shattered glass covering the office. Avalon's estimate seemed pretty good.

More marines ran in, along with medical staff. Within moments, the large office was crowded as Avalon began issuing orders.

Kodiak pulled Braben over to one side, their feet crunching on glass.

“What are you thinking, Von?”

“I'm thinking that it might not have been Zworykin, but this is still an inside job, has to be,” said Kodiak. He pointed to the building opposite their own.

Braben nodded. “There's no way anyone would be able to access that rooftop without Fleet authorization.”

Kodiak rolled his neck. He felt his strength begin to ebb, the aftereffects of the massive jolt of adrenaline. Because … holy
shit,
what the hell was going on? Now it was two Fleet Admirals down. Kodiak turned back to where Zworykin lay, his body now surrounded by marines and medical staff. Kodiak almost felt light-headed … the surprise, the shock. Jesus, it was …

Two
Fleet Admirals dead?

Two Fleet Admirals dead.

My God.

Who would be next? Because this sure as hell was the start of something big. As if the first assassination hadn't thrown them into chaos, this was … unprecedented.

The Fleet was under attack.

And it was up to him, and Braben, and the chief, to figure it all out. But not only that, they had to
protect
the Fleet. Whoever was next in line from Zworykin was now, presumably, a prime target as well.

And … what about them? If it
was
an inside job—if Zworykin had been
watched
—did that mean they, the investigative team, were targets too?

Too many thoughts. Too many possibilities. Jesus, what was the
motive
for all this?

Kodiak turned on his heel, looking around the room, running his hands through his hair. On the other side of the room, Commander Avalon was talking to two others in uniform, clearly some of Zworykin's staff. She still had her staser out, a sight that made Kodiak twitch his hand over his own gun on his belt. He looked down at his chest, which was covered in glass dust. But his vest had protected him. Then he remembered what he had seen—Braben was watching the crowd around Zworykin's body, the Admiral himself hidden in the middle of the crush of marines and medical personnel.