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CHAPTER SIX

An hour later, our guards got the word and escorted us to the dining room. Several of the other staff were there, including Kolodny and his engineering team. Kinneman, McKell, Ixil, and my father, I noted, were elsewhere, possibly some exclusive dining area.

Selene and I ate quickly and returned to our suite. With the prospect of a quick bioprobe turnaround hovering in front of us, we made sure to hit the sack early.

I’d half expected to be awakened in the middle of the night with orders to return immediately to the Icarus ready room. We weren’t. Next best guess would be for us to be summoned at our usual waking time, or during or after breakfast, or during or after lunch.

None of those happened, either.

In the middle of the afternoon I tried calling McKell and Ixil. No answer. I tried leaving them messages. Neither of them messaged back. I tried getting our door guards to take us somewhere—anywhere—where we might run into someone else who could tell us why we’d suddenly been put on ice. Nothing.

It was an hour before dinner, and I was seriously considering trying to make a break for it, just to see how far the Marines were willing to go to keep us penned up, when our isolation finally lifted.

Though not in the way I’d expected.

“I just wanted to drop by and tell you that all bioprobe surveys have been suspended indefinitely,” McKell said, waving us over to a group of four chairs at one side of the conversation area. He watched us seat ourselves in two of the chairs, then set off on a wandering path around the room, looking for all the world like someone in an interesting new environment who’s casually checking out the décor.

Having been cooped up here far longer than anyone would ever have wanted to, I could have told him there was nothing at all interesting in the place.

“I also wanted to make sure you two weren’t going stir-crazy in here while the general figures out what to do with you next.”

“I thought we were the Icarus Group’s original one-trick pony,” I pointed out, looking sideways at Selene. She’d clearly picked up on McKell’s odd behavior, and her pupils were showing the same growing apprehension I was feeling.

For her, her uneasiness would be coming from the subtle changes she could smell in McKell’s scent. For me, it was all about the way he was searching for bugs and other monitoring devices without being too obvious about it. “Our trick being that Selene finds the RH directory, wherever it came down, while I cheerlead from the sidelines.”

“Sounds like your usual gig,” McKell said. “Of course, that assumes RH did come down here. Or was ever here to begin with.”

“Assuming all that, yes,” I conceded. “So is the general having trouble wrapping his mind around Selene’s abilities?”

“It’s more like he’s trying to figure out how to add a second trick to your repertoire,” McKell said. “He’s had the rest of us sequestered in a very private room since yesterday’s meeting, in fact, brainstorming possibilities.”

“Of course we’ll look forward to hearing whatever you come up with,” I said. Best guess as I listened to him and watched his meanderings was that he was trying to stretch out the froth part of the conversation until he concluded it was safe to switch to whatever it was he’d really come here to tell us. If that was the case, I was more than willing to play along. “We’ve thought about branching out into lie-detector work, but so far that hasn’t taken off.”

“Yes, I remember you pulling that trick on Tera back when we first met,” McKell said. “Seemed very effective. But I don’t think that’ll be something we can use here.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Kinneman seems pretty paranoid about the Patth and people dropping hints to them. Maybe we could check his staff for him and see if any of them, shall we say, have been talking out of turn into the wrong ears.”

“That’s a serious accusation,” McKell warned. “You have anything to back it up?”

“Oh, no, I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” I assured him. “But we know how the Patth have backdoors into StarrComm and a lot of planetary communications networks. It wouldn’t be a stretch for them to add human intel assets to that mix.”

“Well, if someone here is feeding anything to the Patth, I wouldn’t want to be in those shoes when the general finds out,” McKell said. He came to a halt in the middle of the rug and gave the room one final, careful look. “But you’re right about the Patth passion for intel gathering. I suppose the power-hungry are always like that.”

“The power-hungry, and the paranoid,” I said. “I think it’s a toss-up as to which crowd the Patth land in. You finished?”

McKell pursed his lips, then nodded. “Yes,” he said, coming over and sitting down across from us. “The brainstorming I mentioned finished up about an hour ago.” His lip twitched. “The bad news is the hill it landed on. General Kinneman has decided on a military incursion.”

I felt my mouth drop open. “A what?”

“You heard me,” McKell said grimly. “A full EarthGuard HOTSPUR assault. The only question is how many platoons he’ll be able to commandeer and how fast they can get here.”

“With all due respect, he must be out of his mind.”

“I don’t like it either,” McKell said. “But whatever the state of his mind, it’s completely made up.”

“What’s HOTSPUR?” Selene asked.

“High Orbit To Surface Pursuit,” McKell told her. “Basically, it’s a military team suited up in what amounts to tiny rockets who drop unexpectedly into and through a planetary atmosphere, and hit the ground ready to kill people and break things.”

“That seems…dangerous.”

“It is,” McKell agreed. “HOTSPUR soldiers are among the most elite in EarthGuard, right up there with the LOGI—that’s Low Orbit/Ground Infantry—and SOLA—Space Ocean Land Air—units. They’re highly trained, highly motivated, and highly respected.”

“And you say they’re strapped into their rockets?”

“Personal rockets complete with thrusters and retros,” McKell said. “Plus a generous coating of ablative material to absorb some of the atmospheric friction.”

“It still sounds dangerous,” Selene said, the apprehension in her pupils taking on some puzzlement. “Once they’re down, how do they get back up?”

“Normally a shuttle is dropped to pick them up after the mission’s been completed,” McKell said. “If they’re needed elsewhere in the same operations theater they’ll be moved via ground or air transport.”

“Only here none of those options are available,” I said grimly. “They’re stuck until…well, until they die.”

A look of horror flooded across Selene’s pupils. “They’re being sent on a suicide mission?”

“It’s not quite that bad,” McKell said, an odd reluctance in his tone. “The plan is to bring a shuttle through in pieces and assemble it at Alpha. Once that’s done, they’ll be able to go down and bring them back.”

“Really,” I ground out. “Excuse my cynicism, but saying you’ll do something is a lot harder than actually doing it. Out of curiosity, how long did it take to get the bioprobe and grav generators pushed through the Alpha hatches and assembled?”

McKell’s lip twitched. “About five months.”

“Five months,” I repeated. “I’m hardly in Colonel Kolodny’s class, engineering wise, but even I can see that putting together a shuttle is a couple of magnitudes harder than doing the same thing with a bioprobe. Or am I being too pessimistic?”

“No, that’s basically the estimate Kolodny came up with,” McKell agreed.

“So,” I said. “Two orders of magnitude up from five months gives us…about forty years, give or take.”

“Unless someone comes up with a faster technique, yes.”

“It’s good to have goals,” I said sarcastically. “So basically, their choices are to die from native spears, starvation, or old age. Or whatever predators are down there. Did I miss anything?”

Now you’re being pessimistic,” McKell chided. “You’re forgetting that the railgun we used to launch the bioprobe is already in position. We can keep up a steady stream of ablative-shielded supply pods as long as the team needs them.”

“Right,” I said. “Because people high-tech enough to spot a grav swirl in the clouds will certainly miss a procession of half-ton pods parachuting into their forest. The HOTSPUR team might was well put up a beacon announcing their location.”

“Or the natives might simply intercept or destroy the pods before the team even gets to them,” Selene murmured.

“Actually, we discussed that possibility,” McKell said. “Our analysis of the bioprobe contents indicates that the native flora and fauna should have all the necessary amino acids and micro-nutrients to create a reasonable human diet. If the landing team can get a farm set up, or even just manage a sustainable hunter-gatherer system, there’s a good chance they could live off the land until the shuttle is ready.”

“I feel better already,” I said. “Somehow, I’m still not seeing a crowd of eager volunteers clamoring to sign up for a forty-year mission.”

McKell shrugged uncomfortably. “The general assures us he’ll be able to pull together more resources to throw at this than Admiral Graym-Barker was given for the bioprobe setup. If that helps any.”

“Of course he says that,” I said. “See my earlier comments about talking and doing. But fine. Halve that forty years all the way down to twenty. You’re still not going to get a lot of volunteers.”

“I agree,” McKell said heavily. “Which is why I gather the general isn’t planning to ask.”

I stared at him. “Does he really think he can sell a conscript semi-suicide mission to the Commonwealth and the EarthGuard senior generals?”

He thinks he can,” McKell said. “And to be honest, the handful of officers and politicians who’ve been read into Project Needle are apparently very eager to get their hands on RH. If Kinneman can convince them that he can deliver, I get the feeling they’ll give him carte blanche.”

He seemed to brace himself. “And here’s where it goes from bad to worse.” Almost reluctantly, he looked at Selene.

And suddenly my blood went cold. “No,” I breathed. “Hell no.”

“It’s the only way this makes even marginal sense,” McKell said. “The HOTSPUR team isn’t going down for an extended vacation or to plant the Commonwealth flag. Kinneman wants RH, the Commonwealth wants it, and the only way to get it—”

“Is if I’m down there with them,” Selene said quietly, her pupils brimming with fear and horror.

“No,” I repeated, emphasizing the word even more. “I’m not letting him sentence Selene to what amounts to a lifetime exile.”

“I don’t want that either,” McKell said. “Neither do Ixil and Tera. But this isn’t Admiral Graym-Barker’s Icarus Group anymore, and we don’t have the influence with Kinneman that we had with him. And as I say, he and everyone else wants a full portal directory.”

“Then let me put this in terms they can hopefully grasp,” I said softly. Those first blinding flashes of disbelief and fury had faded from my mind and soul, leaving a hollow but deadly resolve in their place. “Selene isn’t going. Period. Not under those conditions.” I looked at her, then back at McKell. “Before I let that happen, I will personally and permanently take her off the table.”

I saw a flicker of black amusement cross McKell’s face, the look of someone who’s hearing hyperbole and prepared to accept it as such. A second later, the full meaning of my threat seemed to hit him squarely across the face. “Roarke—”

“After which,” I cut him off, “I’ll kill myself.” I gave a small shrug. “Which will be a shame. I’d have enjoyed hearing Kinneman try to explain that one to his precious Commonwealth supporters.”

“Roarke, let’s think about this before we go off the deep end,” McKell said carefully.

“Oh, I’m thinking,” I assured him. “And I’m certainly not taking any irrevocable steps until they’re absolutely necessary. I just want to impress on you that no matter what Kinneman does, he’s not going to end up with the big win he’s looking for. I trust you can deliver that message?”

“I can deliver it,” McKell said reluctantly. “But I don’t think he’ll listen.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” I agreed. “So here’s Plan B. I want you to pull my father aside and tell him how this is going to end. Maybe you and I can’t get through to Kinneman, but maybe he can.”

“Assuming he’s willing to listen to me,” McKell warned.

“Oh, he’ll listen,” I assured him. “He’s always been good at that. Whether he’ll be able to do anything is a different story. But he’s always been a survivor, and I can’t see him keeping his wagon hitched to Kinneman’s donkey if he sees that donkey about to get booted off his lofty peak and go splat on the ground. Who knows? Maybe my father publicly bailing on Project Needle will be enough to make Kinneman reconsider.”

“Maybe,” McKell said, sounding doubtful. “Interesting turn of phrase, ‘booted off his lofty peak.’ What was that old line? I saw Lucifer fall like lightning from heaven.

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“It’s from the Bible,” McKell explained, standing up. “Lucifer, an angel of light, on his way to becoming Satan, the devil. It’s sounding more and more like Kinneman’s future career path.”

“Maybe,” I said, frowning as a sudden thought struck me. Booted off his lofty peak…“Any idea how long before Kinneman can get this future fiasco up and running?”

“It’ll be at least a few days before he can announce it,” McKell said. “His people are still working out the logistics to present to the Commonwealth, and Colonel Kolodny needs to put together a full mark-sheet of how his engineers would get a shuttle out to Alpha. And of course, he can’t just call Earth on StarrComm to discuss it with EarthGuard and the Commonwealth. Not with the Patth eavesdropping everywhere.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking hard. A few days should be enough to at least figure out if my idea was even theoretically possible. “Do me a favor, will you? Come back and see us again tomorrow. Any time will do. Under the circumstances I doubt Kinneman will be letting us wander outside checking out the local sights.”

“If there are even any local sights to see,” McKell said. Even here, even under these circumstances, his automatic response was to not say anything that might give us a hint as to where we were. “I’ll aim for this same time.”

“That’ll do,” I said. “And bring Ixil and Tera if you can.”

“I will,” McKell said, giving me a speculative look. He’d seen some of my harebrained ideas before, and he knew how far off the charts those ideas could be.

But he’d also seen that more of them panned out than the laws of probability would reasonably predict.

“In the meantime, try to get some rest,” he added, heading toward the door. “And if anyone asks, I just dropped by to say you wouldn’t be needed on bioprobe duty for the near future.”

“Which Selene and I were both relieved and disappointed to hear,” I said, nodding. “See you later.”

He nodded back and crossed to the door. As he opened it, walked through, and closed it behind him I caught a glimpse of the Marines standing their silent vigil.

“Yes,” Selene murmured.

I looked at her, wincing at the sadness and determination in her pupils. “Yes, what?”

“If it comes down to only those two choices,” she said quietly, “yes. Please kill me.”

“It won’t,” I promised her. Standing up, I went over to the table where we’d left our info pads. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

* * *

It was two hours before dinner the next day when McKell, Ixil, and Tera knocked on our door. We greeted each other with the friendly humor and camaraderie all five of us knew would help lull the guards away from any suspicion they might have about our meeting. Tera, in particular, had thought to put additional icing on the cake, bringing a couple of bags of grainory chips and a bottle of Dewar’s scotch for me, plus a bottle of Selene’s favorite sauvignon for her. Just a group of comrades-in-arms touching base with each other on a lazy afternoon.

Distantly, I wondered how many of them would still consider themselves my friend after this.

I’d already drawn a fifth chair into the original ring of four, waiting until the others had seated themselves before doing likewise. “Let’s begin with the bad news,” I said as I lowered myself into the remaining chair. “At least I assume it’s bad news. McKell?”

“I talked with your father,” he said. “He’s fully aware of the seriousness of the situation, and agrees that sending you and Selene is not the right thing to do.”

“But he won’t talk to Kinneman?”

“He won’t talk to Kinneman,” McKell confirmed, “because he believes that if the general knew of your scorched-ground threat he would immediately separate the two of you. He might even put you both in restraints.”

I grimaced. He was probably right, too. “Nice of him to at least allow us the illusion that we have freedom of movement.”

“As opposed to the reality of having none at all?” Tera pointed out.

“I suppose,” I conceded. “I should have thought that through a bit more. Lucifer to Satan—right, McKell?”

“If you’re hoping to mend fences with the general,” McKell said with a touch of dry humor, “I’d keep such comparisons to yourself.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t hear it from me,” I assured him. “Anyway, I think I can give him a far better reason to hate me. Actually, it was your comment that pointed me in the right direction.”

“I can hardly wait,” McKell said. “So what’s your plan?”

“We take away Kinneman’s motivation to send Selene and his HOTSPUR crew to the planet,” I said. “And if we’re lucky, he still gets to win everything.”

I braced myself. “Like Lucifer in your quote, we’re going to kick Alpha out of heaven and bring it crashing to the ground.”



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