Vigilante (22 page)

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Authors: Laura E. Reeve

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BOOK: Vigilante
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The technician was pushing Chander toward the focus platform, the raised
and spotlighted area that Parmet could see, given the tunneled vision from the drugs and
blinders. Tahir tapped Chander’s shoulder, causing him to jerk his head. His thick chestnut
braid flipped over his shoulder.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Tahir said softly. “You are separate from what
happens to your father.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Chander’s face broke into a snarl as he was pulled
to the focus platform.
Tahir shook his head. The boy was probably trying to practice
somaural
control, which was a mistake. Abram would require honest
pain from Chander to influence Parmet, even though Parmet’s world was exaggerated and
artificial.
As the technician twisted Chander’s arms behind him and into the
harness, Tahir closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop his ears, however, as the shrieks of the boy’s
pain were echoed, louder and shriller, by the father’s screams. Abram’s flat voice cut through
all of it, asking measured questions and making promises that he’d never keep. Tahir clenched
his jaw and pushed his anger deep, down into his depths where it festered and compressed into
hate.
CHAPTER 12
When Qesan says “cut off the head,” he means it. Getting rid of prior
leadership is necessary for focusing followers, but Qesan cautions that executions must
happen early while the people are confused by their new circumstances. This helps prevent
martyrs. Of course, he only considers male followers, male leaders—I think women are
discussed in an appendix on resources, right after cattle. Before reading more, I suggest you
go watch this [video] where the Minoans bomb his ass. Laugh wildly, freely, to keep yourself
sane. . . .
 

Misogynist Freaks
, Lauren Swan
Kincaid, 2103.043.11.25 UT, indexed by
Heraclitus 29
under Conflict
Imperative
 
 
“I
saw men in
civilian
clothes with
flechette
weapons,” Joyce
said quietly to Maria, who had just joined him in the closet.
Maria had served half her career in the Terran Expansion League Space
Force before moving to TEBI; she had to know the ramifications of his words. The Phaistos
Protocols directed that personnel carrying deadly weapons must be in military uniform with rank
displayed.
“I don’t know who they are, or who directs them,” Maria whispered. “I
left the SP and his family to get to a contractor meeting, but when I was going through the
great hall, I saw your
friend
Kedros detained and marched away.
Evasion became necessary.”
Regretfully, he had no time to worry about Kedros’s situation right now.
“How long until they search this office?”
Maria’s mouth came close to his ear again as she said, “The office lock
requires my handprint. They won’t be able to open it. I’m hoping they’ll assume this room has
been shut off for later exploration and analysis, as are many of the other rooms.”
“Then why am I in this hell of a cupboard!” He pushed past her.
“Shush.” She put a hand on his mouth and he smelled the fresh, pungent
scent of her soap or lotion. “They can still hear us.”
Joyce took a deep breath and looked at the door to the office. It sealed
well, but he could see a tiny crack of light from the hallway. He turned on his small
slate-light, keeping it at the lowest setting, and looked about the office.
“Perhaps we should finish negotiating the terms of your defection and
get your signature,” he said.
“You want to do that
now
?”
“That’s the only way I can trust you.” His voice was cold, intentionally
insulting.
Her response was to raise one eyebrow.
“You rejected our first offer of compensation—”
“Which was based upon staying in place.” She folded her arms and frowned
with irritation—
purposely
. He had to remember her
somaural
skills. “Look, Joyce, I know the rules of this game, because I’ve
played them from the other side. You want me to stay where I am, as a double agent, but that’s
not acceptable. I want to emigrate, but my TEBI experience prevents me from doing that legally
and openly. That’s why I called your Directorate. Let’s move
on
.”
He picked up on the important words. “You say you’ve
played this game from the other side
?”
“That’s what you need, isn’t it?” She smiled. “I’ve got recent
information about our agents. Some are double-dealing.”
“We already know about Lieutenant Colonel Jacinthe Voyage.”
Maria let nothing show, neither disappointment nor surprise. “What if
there are others? Besides, you want to know how Cara Paulos infiltrated our network.”
Yes, he needed details on Cipher, Kedros’s old crewmate, originally Cara
Paulos, to piece together how she’d taken control of Karthage Point’s environmental systems.
Hearing footfalls pass the office again, he realized he shouldn’t delay. Still keeping to a
whisper, he asked, “What’s your price?”
“I want a secure, well-paying job, preferably in what I do best. I’ll
require
eighty thousand HKD per year in salary and, above all,
Consortium citizenship so that”—she paused slightly, almost imperceptibly—“I can have children.
Children with
citizenship
.”
Joyce stared at the woman, whose dark blue eyes, on the same level as
his, were defiant. His mind was backtracking, because this was back-ass-ward from what he and
Edones thought Maria wanted.
Everyone knew that the Terrans used strict eugenic controls via their
multimarriages. Accidental pregnancies were prevented by state-applied birth control implants,
with the additional threat of withholding citizenship from unplanned and unapproved progeny.
Citizenship was the only way to have benefits such as health care, but it was that governmental
health-care system with which Maria had run afoul: She wasn’t allowed to have children due to
Tantor’s Sun disease, which she’d contracted in a battle near Tantor. This disease incurred a
measurable genetic mutation that would likely be found in all her eggs. On Autonomist worlds,
the mutation was considered benign and could be removed from the egg, if parents wished, either
in utero or before fertilization. Maria also had a weakened respiratory system from Tantor’s
Sun disease, but, like other battle wounds, the condition wasn’t hereditary.
Joyce cleared his throat, not sure about finding a job that fit what she
“did best,” but he needed to keep her on the Directorate’s hook. “I can’t authorize any of
these arrangements,” he said cautiously.
“And it doesn’t matter right now.” Maria motioned for silence as they
heard more running footsteps in the corridor. After they faded away, she continued softly.
“This system is technically under Pilgrimage Line control, so we’re both outside our
jurisdictions. From what I’ve seen, this takeover came about by seeding the construction and
mining crews with agents.”
“Even on the
Pilgrimage
?” He didn’t think
that possible, considering how long ago the ship had started its voyage to G-145.
“There, I figure they muscled themselves on board and they’re now
controlling the crew. For the last day, we’ve been denied bandwidth due to maintenance and I
didn’t get suspicious until it was too late.” She shook her head. “Beta Priamos is probably
also overrun.”
“By whom? What do they want?”
“Don’t know. But that puts us on the same side, doesn’t it?”
He still couldn’t trust her, but she was correct: The decades-old enmity
between the Consortium and the League didn’t matter right now, inside this new system.
“We need comm,” he said grimly. “And information.”
She nodded. “We have to get up to Beta Priamos.”
Oleander learned why Captain Floros, as prickly and introverted as she
was, had been snagged by the Directorate of Intelligence.
“Watch and learn, Young Flower,” Floros said to Oleander as she cracked
her knuckles. She tapped the keyboard outline on the table and grinned menacingly at the
display responding on the wall. “I’ll show you how to kick around those AI models—intelligent
indexing, my ass.”
Oleander laughed. Across the conference room, Edones glanced at them and
then went back to his subdued and hushed conversation with SP Hauser. His enigmatic and cold
blue eyes could have been taken as discouragement of her levity, but she chose to ignore
him.
This is how I handle galactic disasters. I need to
look for humor in the little things
. Besides, she was irritated that no one had told her
that a Terran package
could
be detonated without the warhead
interface or the security unlock codes.
“We’ve got to find this bastard,” Floros muttered as she displayed a
search interface.
Oleander had never seen that interface and as she watched Floros, her
mind cleared. She had to concentrate on her own task; all scenarios came to her queue so she
could weed out the duplicates, and prioritize them for later analysis. Edones had told her that
any scenario involving martyrdom should be higher priority for investigation.
The quick briefing regarding the design flaw in the Mark Fifteen arming
sequence left Oleander a bit confused, but as she saw the scenarios submitted by the other
officers, she felt a chill settle between her shoulder blades. Apparently, test codes could be
substituted for operational arming codes, provided they were downloaded to the warhead package
during a certain sequence of environmental conditions. This involved entry of valid test codes,
quickly followed by a rapid increase and decrease in gravitational force, called an “S”
maneuver based upon the graph of force versus time.
Every officer in the room had figured out a way to get the weapon to arm
and possibly detonate. Oleander compared the scenarios. They all had a space vehicle hauling
the warhead dangerously near a gravitational well, such as a sun or near-sunlike gas giant. She
gave scenarios using manned vehicles a higher priority than those using remotely piloted
vehicles, remembering Edones’s martyrdom factor.
There were plenty of hypotheses regarding how the isolationists might
interface with the package and
where
they’d detonate it.
Unfortunately,
where
related to
why
,
which nobody understood. Everyone was guessing.
“I’ve got him. Boarding at—” Floros yelped and clamped her jaw
shut.
Oleander put down her slate. Edones stood up, waiting.
Floros’s complexion paled. “Both Tahir Rouxe and his father, Abram
Hadrian Rouxe, left Athens Point under assumed identities prepared by other members of their
tribe. Civilian security was lax, since they didn’t fool my analysis.”
“Where were they going?” Edones asked.
Floros’s mouth twitched. “It’s G-145, sir. There’s been no response from
anyone from that system for almost eight hours. Several Konstantinople Prime University
sophists have issued complaints, saying they were cut off from archeological data because of a
governmental conspiracy.”
Suddenly, all the Autonomist ear bugs alarmed in emergency mode, in that
irritating way audible to everyone standing near. Oleander’s hand jerked up to silence hers, a
motion that echoed Edones, Floros, and Bernard.
“That’s the
Bright Crescent
with a
high-priority message,” Floros said. “Pilgrimage Headquarters has issued Declarations of
Emergency to both the Consortium and the League.”
 
Ariane hid her hands under her folded arms and tightened them into
fists. Her first reaction at the sight of the homicidal redhead was to force an apology,
preferably through pummeling. However, she’d spent her adult life trusting her senses but not
always acting on her first reaction. Right now, her senses told her she wasn’t in danger. She
remained standing as Parmet’s first wife introduced herself as Garnet Westwind Tachawee and
gestured at the redhead, who threw herself onto the ledge.
“That’s Sabina Sky Cavanagh, my co-wife. They’ve taken our son, Chander,
and husband, Isrid, or rather State Prince Isrid Sun Parmet,” Garnet said.
Colonel Dokos introduced everyone already in the room, getting around to
Ariane last. Sabina’s hand, initially lying against her thigh, flashed a signal. Garnet
stiffened.
Ariane stepped forward to stand in front of Garnet, making sure she was
out of kicking range. This wife might be just as vengeful.
“I think Sabina feels we’re enemies,” Ariane said to Garnet. “I might
have agreed, six months ago. However, wouldn’t you say it’s time to forget the war, under the
current circumstances?”
“Fine words,” Sabina said coldly from the bench. “You heal quickly,
Kedros. Don’t speak to her, Garnet—someone will be rescuing us soon.”
Garnet’s head jerked back to look at Ariane’s face. Her warm hazel gaze
slowly examined the bruises. Then she looked back at Sabina, whose hand signals were hidden
from everyone in the room except Garnet and Ariane. Garnet’s face paled.

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