Megalodon City, Tundra, Standard Year 404 after founding

  Mission objective: acquire the DNA of Sarayan POW Alanna Summers. Robert had kindly sent over the video of her unenthusiastic renunciation of Sarayan loyalty, so at least Grant knew what she looked like, along with photos of the guards that worked on her floor and the overall layout and security measures of the prison. Presumably, Robert considered this generous information to be more than enough to send Grant on his way. Maybe it was the sort of intel he gave his agents.

  Grant looked out the window of his car glumly as he passed the squat, ugly building housing Megalodon City Penitentiary for the third time. He was not an agent, and claimed no particular skills in this area. Of course, he was a genius. The greatest physicist of his generation. But there wasn’t any parking. That was the first problem. It wasn’t as if he could pull up and rely on guest parking. There was simply no legitimate reason for Grant Pardo, foremost physicist in the solar system and all around genius, to be hanging around Megalodon City Penitentiary. “Ridiculous.” He muttered under his breath for the hundredth time. In the end, he simply pulled over to the side of the road, turning off the lights on his car and hoping no one noticed. It was unbelievably sloppy, but he had no better ideas. He certainly wasn’t walking to the prison from any further distance than this.

  The temperature outside was negative seventy three, Celsius. Robert couldn’t actually force him to do anything. The man had no real power. Technically, the Carda’an empire didn’t even have jurisdiction here. The emperor was over seventy light years away. Even old earth, the closest colony, was over forty light years away. Grant could turn the engine back on, get back on the tunnel road, and drive home. No one could stop him. The damn man was dead! He sat in his heated seat for another long minute before releasing a deep sigh and awkwardly stripping in the tight space. A little while later, Grant opened the door, stepping out, naked and invisible, onto the icy ground. Technically, the Carda’ans could survive in climates colder than this. He would not actually die. But to call the experience unpleasant would be the understatement of the century. Stepping out onto the icy road, Grant ran. His skin blurred, reflecting back the snow, ice and orange light of the road with slight imperfections as the speed of his movements made it difficult to shift in time.

  The guard whose job it was to watch the door to the prison looked up with a frown, as the motion detectors triggered the door opening. There was nothing there. Damn technology never works right, he thought with a sigh.

  Moving more slowly to ensure full invisibility, Grant stood against one of the walls and waited for a guard he recognized to walk into the elevator. And waited. And waited. He yawned, moving his hand slowly to cover his mouth. About an hour later, Grant was sitting against a wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, and glaring in increasing annoyance at the elevator. None of the guards looked right. If he waited much longer, his car was sure to get towed. It could get scratched, not to mention the bother of getting it back from the impound lot. He glanced up at another blast of cold air as a new guard walked through the door. He was cold. He was bored. And the guard was no one he recognized. With another yawn, Grant got up and walked back out. The mission would just have to wait. He was going home.

  Sarayan Space, Standard Year 404 after founding

  Taking off her cracked helmet, Clara stared at Henry and James across the shuttle, which felt unexpectedly spacious in the absence of the giant trunk.

  “Life support functional.” Henry said, taking off his helmet. Fortunately, the shuttle came with basic first aid supplies. Still feeling groggy and unwell, he managed to find the bandages and was now using them to clean out the vomit from his helmet. It could have been worse, he reminded himself.

  “And we’re still alive.” James said, removing his helmet, as well. “Clara, are you all right?”

  “Why?” Clara exploded. “Why?” The words she’d been holding back for what felt like an eternity finally tumbled out.

  “Because no one managed to kill us.” James said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Why?” Clara took a breath, getting a grip on herself. “Why did you kill the guards? They were passed out. No threat. You killed them in cold blood.”

  James looked genuinely surprised by the question. “They saw the trunk.” He said, as if the explanation was perfectly obvious.

  “What?” Clara shook her head, uncomprehending.

  “They knew we went in with the trunk.” Henry spoke up, taking a sip of water. “If we allowed them to live, the first thing they’d do is go looking for it. There was only what? A ten to fifteen minute window. They would know it’s in the area. That’s why we jammed the video.” He reminded her.

  Clara stared. “Then why didn’t you kill them right away?”

  Henry looked over at James. It was a fair question.

  “Once you start using killing rounds, they come for you with everything they have.” James said calmly. “Killing rounds are the last resort. After that, we needed to get out.”

  “Your timing was impeccable.” Henry said, leaning his head against the wall behind him. “As always.”

  “It’s never been this close.” James admitted.

  “Well, they definitely know we were there.” Clara said. “What with all the dead people.”

  “They know someone was there.” James corrected her. “They may not know it was us, or what we’ve done.”

  Clara thought about all that footage, from everywhere they’d been all over the station. A competent investigator would be able to piece it together, in time. The only question was whether the Sarayans would put someone competent on the job, and how long it would take. With eight dead marines, her guess was they’d find someone competent. “The marine that tried to help us, the one that carried Henry towards the evacuation route. You never killed him.” Clara said.

  James winced. “He wasn’t there.” He said. “When we came back, he wasn’t there.”

  “Otherwise, you would have killed him?” Clara asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

  “Of course.” James said, without hesitation.

  “He wasn’t there.” Henry agreed. “One of his people must have come back for him.” The Sarayan marine had been the kind of man whose people came back for him.

  “James pushed away the trunk.” Clara remembered. “There was no way to know if the marine noticed or not.”

  “We did all we could.” James said with a shrug. “The rest is out of our control. Clara, you’re done. You’re going home. It’s over.” James took off the right glove of his space suit, ignoring the pain in his left arm, and reached for Clara, squeezing her shoulder with his bare hand.

  “What did I do?” Clara asked defensively. “I did the damn job. I did what you asked.”

  “Clara, I didn’t mean… listen to me. You are a hero. You’ve gone above and beyond. You saved us. You saved all of us. And now you are going home. You’re done.”

  “He let us go.” Clara said. The only emotion in her voice was exhaustion.

  “Yes.” James agreed. “He did.”

  “Any chance this stupid shuttle is bugged?” Clara asked.

  James blinked at the non sequitur. “I scanned it before we came on board.” He said.

  “Perfect James.” Clara said, not bothering to hide the bitterness from her voice. “But you’re not perfect enough to come back from Saraya without me. We are going to Saraya, aren’t we, James?”

  “You’re sure as hell not.” James said sharply. “It’s my team. And you’re staying home.”

  “I’m not your baby sister!”

  “You’re still staying home!”

  “I’m glad we’ve settled this whole baby sister thing.” Henry said tiredly.

  “Shut up, Henry.” They both said in unison.

  “You need me on Saraya.” Clara said, crossing her arms. “And I know what you were doing. You didn’t let me lay a hand on a single one of those bombs. You and Henry planted every single one. As if that makes a difference. I was there, James. I’m as responsible as the two of you. What difference will…” she paused, turning away “what difference is a few thousand more deaths? On top of what we’ve already done.”

  “Clara…” James tried interrupting.

  “What? That woman who gave me water? She’ll probably be dead. Eric. Most of the people in that bar. How many more?”

  “Probably not quite that many.” James said with a slight smile.

  “You think this is funny?”

  “He didn’t plant it, Clara. We skipped the civilian’s wing.”

  “What?” Clara paused, looking at them both in confusion.

  “It was too crowded.” James repeated once again. “No way to get it done without being noticed.”

  “But…” Clara stared at him. “Did you just fail to achieve a mission objective?”

  “No. Not that it matters, Clara.” James said mildly. “But no, the mission objective was to plant four nuclear bombs. Targets were discretionary.”

  “James.” Clara began.

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  “Yes?”

  “I truly and genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, absolutely hate your right now.” And then she leaned over and hugged him, as hard as she possibly could.

  “How long until we’re past the blackout on comms?” Henry asked, ignoring the interchange entirely.

  “We’re still in Sarayan space.” James shook his head. “And asteroids aren’t supposed to send out transmissions. After all that, be a shame to get ourselves shot on the way back.”

  Henry nodded. The exhaustion was setting in along with a sense of relief, and he found he could barely keep his eyes open. He couldn’t seem to remember the last time he’d slept, and the chemical cocktail that had been keeping him going was finally wearing off. He missed his family. “Are we waiting until we leave Sarayan space?” He asked tiredly.

  James nodded.

  Henry sighed. Even if all went well, it would be two more days before they returned to the Black Hawk. Two more days before he could write to his wife and tell her he was alive. This was the longest he had been away, with a complete blackout on communications. Lily would be going mad with worry, but it couldn’t be helped. At least they were alive. He took a breath. His heart was still beating like a hammer inside his chest, his skin feeling hot and flushed and his stomach churning uncomfortably. But he was alive. They all were. Nothing was more important than that. Taking advantage of their newly spacious surroundings, Henry stretched out in the space that had been occupied by the trunk on their way in, and finally fell asleep.

  Clara raised an eyebrow as the first snores echoed softly around the tiny shuttle interior. “Think she’ll forgive you?” She asked.

  James gave her a not entirely friendly look, letting the silence stretch on as they listened to the snores.

  Their mission was classified. There was no reason to believe Alanna would know. But she might guess. Alanna was good at that.

  “Alanna will understand.” He finally said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  “You think she’s like you.”

  “Yes.” James agreed. “I do.”

  Clara shrugged noncommittally. Climbing somewhat awkwardly over Henry’s sleeping form, she pulled out two ration bars, tossing one over to James before sitting back down. “How’s your arm?” She asked, noting the stiffness of his movements.

  “I’ll live.”

  “Yeah, if we get back to the Black Hawk and get you some serious medical care soon, then you’ll live.” Clara said sharply,

  “If we don’t get back to the Hawk, we’ll have bigger problems.” James responded, listening to the soft hum of the barely working engines as they floated their way ever further from Saraya. Moving too quickly in their tiny, unarmed shuttle would get them noticed. And in their current position, noticed meant dead. He winced slightly as he unwrapped the ration bar. The act took both hands, and the pain in his left arm was getting worse.

  “If it’s us who are going back to Saraya, it has to be soon. Because sooner or later, the Sarayans will figure out it was us that killed those marines.” Clara said.

  James nodded in reluctant agreement. “Henry and I will look different if we go back.” James said.

  “Yes but you can’t change everything.” Clara said, worried.

  “Do you think they’ll find the nukes?” James asked.

  Clara shrugged. “With eight dead marines, their top priority will be to find us. The easiest way to find out what we were doing there, is to ask. My guess is they’ll focus on finding those responsible.”

  “They might find Tom.” James said grimly.

  “He should have left with us.”

  James nodded, staring down at his partially eaten ration bar. Alanna would not forgive him for getting Tom captured and killed. “How long do you think we have?” He asked. “Before they identify us?”

  “Hard to say.” Clara admitted. “I don’t know much about how the Sarayans do it.”

  “And if it were us?”

  “Maybe a week? No direct footage of what we did in the officer’s wing but they’ll have eye witnesses, and they’ll try to collate who was there with whoever was around when the cameras went back on.”

  “That won’t work.” James said.

  “Why not?”

  “I dropped the video jammer around the bar. And my guess is someone will take it.”

  “I’d hate for you to turn criminal.” Clara said with reluctant admiration.

  “How much time does that buy us?”

  “Assuming Eric doesn’t talk? Maybe as much as another week. And by then everyone’s tired and cranky. Your superiors are angry no matter what you do, the sense of urgency is mostly gone. But that’s also when you bring in your best people.”

  “Will Eric talk?” James asked, his gaze sharpening.

  “How would I know?”

  “You know.”

  Clara shrugged, looking away. “He didn’t see us with the trunk.” She said. “Tom came in with it, we walked out without it.”

  “But he suspects.”

  “It’s easier not to talk when you only suspect.” Clara said, rubbing her face tiredly.

  “If we go back, it has to be soon.” James said, trying not to think about the growing ache in his arm. “If they find what we’ve left them, it may be too late.” The attack on Saraya, with the nuclear bombs to be used as a distraction before the battle, needed to happen soon.

  “Why does it have to be you that goes to Saraya? Let it be someone else.”

  “Tom said it has to be me.”

  “Screw Tom.” Clara said in frustration. “Send someone else. It doesn’t always have to be you.”

  “Tom won’t go back with anyone else.” James said quietly.

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Damn.” Clara said, with feeling. “They don’t even have real showers! If this is the kind of shit I’m going to be doing, a girl needs a shower.”

  “Nothing to do with you.” James said stubbornly, finally finishing off the last of his ration bar.

  Clara snorted, looking over to make sure Henry was fully asleep. “I lost my virginity for you, pretty boy. I’m all in now.”

  “Wait, what?” James asked, an uncharacteristically confused look on his face.

  Clara nodded, pleased by the disturbed reaction.

  “Clara forgive me for being blunt about this but even if I limited myself to firsthand observation, you are not entirely, er…” James paused. There was, it suddenly occurred to him, no good way to finish that thought.

  “Are you quite finished?” Clara sked helpfully.

  “I think so.”

  “Technically, I was a virgin.”

  “That’s getting pretty damn technical.” James muttered under his breath.

  “I bled.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Thank you, James. Really, thanks for that.”

  James sighed. “Clara I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do it. We would have found another way if you asked.”

  “I know.” Clara shrugged. “It’s done. And it’s the reason we walked out alive. Eric let us go.” She said, staring down at the floor glumly. She wondered what Eric would think, when he learned they had killed eight marines. And if he ever learned what they had actually done, killing him would have been a mercy. She swallowed.

  “Clara, I’m sorry.” James repeated.

  “It’s done. Like it or not, I’m all in. If you are going to Saraya, I will be there to watch your back.”

  “I won’t allow…”

  “I’ll tell your father.” Clara said, interrupting him. “He’ll give you a direct order if he has to. I’m the right person for the mission. You know that.”

  “I’ll think about it.” James said quietly.

  “It’s not your job to save Tom.” Clara tried, one last time. “And this thing with Alanna, it’ll blow over, right? It’s not like you’re getting married and having babies, is it?”

  James shrugged, avoiding her eyes.

  Clara frowned. “Your father won’t allow it.” She said before she could think better of it.

  James raised an eyebrow, the subtle gesture surprisingly effective at communicating his thoughts on the matter. He may have been about to say more when an unexpectedly loud alarm sounded from his Sarayan wrist comm. He looked down at his wrist, startled. While they couldn’t transmit information without being noticed, they could receive it. Unless someone was being actively jammed, radio transmissions traveled easily between Tundra and Saraya, visible to all, although typically legible only to those with the right decryption keys on hand. And there was nothing preventing them from receiving such transmissions.

  Blinking to get his eyes to focus in spite of the exhaustion, James focused on the news running across the tiny screen of the cheap Sarayan wrist comm. “Saraya declared martial law.” He said, sitting up straighter.

  Henry stirred, the tension in James’s voice piercing through his restless sleep. He sat up. “Martial law?’ He asked sleepily. “Did we do that?”

  Clara snorted. “There might be a bit more to it than that. Eric said it might happen.”

  “Why?” James asked.

  “People are unhappy with how the war effort is going. All the stories in the world aren’t enough to mask the truth. Saraya, is no longer winning.”

  “Eric said that?” James asked with surprise.

  “He did. Not in public at the bar but in his quarters. He said people were unhappy and tensions were rising. And their next election is coming up soon. He thought the only way for Lorelai Achly to remain in power, was to declare martial law.”

  “How will they justify that?” Henry asked. “Hell, we didn’t even declare martial law after Dragon City.”

  James looked back down and continued reading “The incursion of enemy forces from within has left us with no other option but to…” he paused, cleared his throat, “to declare martial law for the benefit and protection of our freedom and our democratically elected government.”

  Henry snickered.

  “They’re going to declare martial law to… protect their freedom.” Clara repeated, stifling a giggle. It had been a long day. Two days? In fact, she couldn’t quite recall the last time she’d slept…

  “That is apparently the case.” James nodded, straight faced.

  Clara laughed harder.

  Unexpectedly, James joined her. “I have to remember that one.” He said.

  “You can’t sell it.” Henry said, between peals of laughter. “Come on James, I dare you to say it with a straight face.”

  “The incursion of forces from within has left us with no other option but to… shut up Clara, I’m trying to say it with a straight face.”

  “Operative word, ‘trying’.” Clara said between peals of laughter.

  “You see, Henry? Clara is actively working to subvert our freedom.”

  “And our democracy.” Henry agreed. “The enemy from within rears her ugly head.”

  “Who are you calling ugly?” Clara kicked out in Henry’s general direction. “The enemy from within is a goddamn stunner.”

  James laughed, finally feeling the tension of the last several days easing off his shoulders. They were going home. He was going to see Alanna. Whatever happened later – would be later. He was going home. “Both of you get some sleep.” He said, still smiling tiredly. “I’ll take the next shift.” Shifting against the wall, he began removing the rest of his spacesuit, awkward in the tight space. Stripping off his Sarayan wrist comm, there was no way to mask the stiff, painful way he was moving his left arm. James ignored the look Clara shot him and switched to his personal wrist comm. The Black Hawk was still in communication blackout, both because of the classified nature of their mission and because Sarayans scanned for transmissions in their space. But there might be some news from home. James paused, frowning when he saw the number of unread texts.

  “What’s wrong?” Clara asked, seeing the look on his face.

  James ignored her, his face growing paler as he continued reading.

  Clara’s eyes widened. She had known James for just about her whole life, for as long as she could remember. And she had never seen quite that look on his face. But she recognized it when she saw it. It was rage.

  “James?” She asked again, her voice more hesitant.

  “Father went after Alanna.” James said, the tone of his voice as calm and controlled as ever, as if he were discussing an unusually active storm season over the winter months.

  Clara frowned.

  “Is she alive?” Henry asked quietly, as the silence stretched on.

  James took another minute to read through his messages, his face now as blank as his voice. “Based on the latest information I have, she is alive.” For the briefest of moments, the rage flashed again in his eyes. “Hurt, but alive.”

  “What can we do?” Clara asked.

  James stared at the screen, once again blinking exhaustion from his eyes. “We can’t send any transmissions.” He said.

  “James, send what you need to send.” Clara said, her eyes filled with worry. “You won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t.”

  James shook his head. “It will put all of you in danger.” He said.

  “Send the transmission.” Henry echoed, sitting up. “James, we’ll risk it.”

  “Send one transmission.” Clara said, leaning forwards. “One short burst is not likely to get noticed among the noise. It’s worth the risk. Send out one and make it count.”

  James paused, staring down at his wrist comm somewhat blankly. Finally, he typed something out and looked up. “Four hours delayed send.” He said. He had pre-programmed the brief, two word message to be sent out. Even if their shuttle was destroyed over the next four hours, his wrist comm should survive and the message would go out to its intended destination.

  “It’s the middle of the night in Megalodon City.” Henry nodded in understanding. “James, what did your father do?”

  James hesitated again. His answers were coming out with noticeable slowness now, as the frostbite and exhaustion were finally taking their toll. “He sent Tony after her.”

  Clara frowned. “Tony Tony? Our Tony?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she’s alive?” Clara blurted out. She regretted the words as soon as they came out, but too late.

  “Apparently.” James said. The doubt in his voice echoed Clara’s sentiment. “I don’t think her death was the intended goal.” He added.

  “What did Tony say?” Clara asked.

  “He said she’s hurt but alive. And he asked me what I wanted him to do.”

  “That’s unusually cooperative, for Tony.” Clara said dubiously.

  “Yes, it is rather.”

  Clara winced. “Sometimes, I wonder if we’re even the good guys.” She muttered tiredly under her breath.

  James blinked, staring down at the dark screen of his wrist comm. “Clara, I can tell you with absolute confidence – we’re the slightly better guys.”