Animus Intercept Page 24

  "That's not fair! I was your wife, then! My first obligation was to you. And surely you never knew anything that could cost people their lives!"

  "I've known things that could save people's lives." Zane thought of all the people dying of cancer and other diseases that a simple infusion of Medical NDs would cure. "Not so different."

  "If that's true, by what right can the government withhold them from us?"

  "I don't know. Where does government get the right to do anything?"

  "That's a cop out."

  His ex-wife clenched her hands more tightly together – a sign of tension Zane had witnessed countless times, but he couldn't recall her knuckles turning white before.

  "I could just tell Mark and certain friends to move inland," she said. "Just say I had a prophetic dream or something. Nothing to do with you."

  "I doubt they'd have a lot of trouble deducing the origins of your dream."

  "Would the government even know? Are we under surveillance? There's panic all over the world right now! They'd really care about what I and a few people are doing?"

  "I don't know, Val. But let's say you tell Mark. He won't mention it to any of his friends or family? And they won't mention it to their friends and family? And maybe post it on the internet?"

  "The internet's full of fake news and crazy rumors."

  Zane stared at her until she met his gaze. "Are you going to honor your oath or not, Valerie?"

  She returned his gaze coolly for a few moments before returning it to the playground.

  "Can I ask you a question, Zane? You are allowed to offer people this safe refuge, correct? And in doing that, you'd have to reveal something about the danger – also correct?"

  Zane pushed back the scowl that was forming. Valerie could always be trusted to argue like a lawyer.

  "Correct," he said. "But we're told to minimize the information to the very basics, and more importantly that we are to choose only people we can trust with our lives, because should the people we invite decide to share what they've been told with others that could not only disqualify them but us from entrance into the underground safe zone. Also, I've told you far more than just the basics."

  "If they questioned me, I would just say you told me there will be risks from Planet X, nothing more." She turned back to face him. "We are allowed to refuse, aren't we?"

  "Yes. And I've been told that's fine as long as people keep it to themselves."

  Valerie nodded noncommittally. Zane leaned back on the bench, suddenly feeling bone-tired. Debates with Valerie were always exhausting. She wanted to win at all costs on matters important to her. He almost felt sorry for her opponents in court.

  "We could go stay with my uncle in Colorado Springs," she said quietly. "He and his neighbors built a bomb/survival shelter, and he's invited us – the three of us – to stay with him there until things have cleared up."

  "My dad built a shelter, too. The problem is, we don't know if any of these shelters will prove adequate. Even if they survive the upheaval intact, the atmosphere might be dangerously polluted and you might face other dangers as well. They can't compare in safety to the National Underground Complex, which was designed to withstand violent upheaval for an indefinite period. Your food and water might run out before it was safe to go outside, not to mention the rigors of being cooped up together for weeks or months or even longer in a confined space."

  "Your dad's thinking of staying topside, too, isn't he?"

  "You know him. He wouldn't let some little thing like a near-collision with an Earth-sized mass scare him." Zane's smile flickered away. "He has some noble notion of helping people, and he doesn't like the idea of special privilege."

  "I don't, either, believe it or not." She frowned as she watched Tyler pat a final patch of sand on his new castle. "But I'd make an exception for my son."

  "I'm glad to hear you say that."

  "Did you really have any question?"

  "So how about compromising a little? Have your fiancé stay with your uncle and you and Tyler come with me. If you're willing to insure his safety, you should be willing to insure the safety of his mother."

  Valerie laughed softly. "You make a good argument, counselor."

  "Then I guess the defense rests. For now."

  Valerie's face grew grave again as she contemplated their son.

  "We have some time, don't we?"

  "Some. Not a lot. We can't predict anything for certain except things will get worse as Ani" – Zane caught himself – "Planet X approaches."

  "All right." She shot him a look. "I'll let you know."

  Chapter 12

  IT WAS NEVER GOOD news when Space Command Intelligence Internal Affairs wanted to talk to you, Zane thought. SCI was one of the few powerful intelligence agencies that remained officially in the dark, outside public and normal Congressional purview. Oversight was limited to a special Congressional Air Force intelligence committee with the innocuous title of "Space Deployment Working Group" that almost no one knew anything about, and the Interplanetary Advisory Council, which even fewer had heard of and that liaised exclusively with the President and his Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  The first time Zane had met with SCIIF was right out of the Academy. A pretty intense interview slanted toward trick questions and vague threats. And again when he'd been promoted to Captain, just before a quick jaunt out to Mars, which had been more like good old former fraternity boys sharing a beer. He had a feeling that what was in store for him this time wouldn't involve beer.

  Three weeks had passed since his meeting with Valerie, and a couple of phone calls since then had yielded only reassurances that she was still considering her "options" and disturbingly vague replies to what if anything she'd shared with her fiancé or others.

  Two men in suits he didn't know were waiting for him in one of the staging/debriefing rooms in Level Five. He was surprised and somewhat encouraged that Hurtle was in attendance, too. Hurtle was a mission man. He dealt with what went on "out there," not internal affairs.

  "Captain Cameron," said the colonel. "These are Agents Lyle and McDonald."

  The introduction drew brief nods from the two men. Neither made a motion to rise from their seats or to shake hands. Colonel Hurtle motioned to a chair across the table from them.

  "Captain Cameron," said Agent Lyle, a slim man with strands of blond hair scattered across a near bald skull. Thick glasses magnified his blue eyes menacingly. Zane guessed the effect was intentional since Command had the cure for both myopia and far-sightedness. "We'd like to know what you told your ex-wife. Everything you told her."

  So they were onto him. No big surprise there. He could see it coming from the moment Valerie had refused to commit herself to keeping quiet, reinforced by her evasiveness on the phone.

  Zane decided to come clean. Command had AI lie detection technology far beyond the best mainstream-technology's lie detector. He had no chance of beating it.

  "I told her the damage from 'Planet X' is going to be a lot worse than she was being told," he said. "I invited her and my son to come down here for the duration."

  "What else?" asked Agent McDonald. McDonald was beefy, short, spiky red hair and squinty green eyes, clearly ex-military. His thin, hostile smile said he wouldn't mind having a a piece of him.

  "I told her I tried to stop it."

  Hurtle chuckled. "Couldn't stop yourself from being the hero in her eyes."

  "Yeah. I guess so."

  "Any details about the mission?" asked Agent Lyle.

  "Only that we reduced the size of 'Planet X.'"

  "No description of Animus and the residents there?"

  "No." I leaned forward, massaging my forearms. "What did she do – call all her friends on speed dial and tell them to leave California?"

  "She apparently told her boyfriend," said Agent McDonald. "Who told some of his friends at their law firm. Who told some of their friends. And so on. Then one concerned citizen posted this."

  He slid a tablet
across the table to Zane. Zane picked it up. It showed an article posted to a conspiracy website called Before It's News.

  WHAT THE GOVERNMENT ISN'T TELLING US ABOUT PLANET X.

  I won't name sources, to protect the innocent and those who had the courage to share this knowledge, but I can assure you what I'm about to tell you is accurate. This information was revealed by a high-ranking Air Force Space Command officer to a close confidante. While I respect the desire of this confidante to keep this information from the general public, I must ultimately follow my conscience in this matter.

  My conscience dictates that the general public has the right to know certain facts about the approaching planetary body we're calling Planet X or Nibiru.

  Planet X is far larger than the government is telling us. It's actually somewhat more massive than Earth. U.S. Government spokespersons claim a planet possessing a quarter of that mass will be passing within five million kilometers of Earth at its closest point.

  I'm neither an astronomer nor a physicist, but I did have a physicist estimate the difference in tidal forces between an Earth-sized body and a body approximately twenty times the mass of the Moon passing that close to the Earth.

  According to his calculations, the tidal force will be approximately one hundred times greater than the official estimates.

  The disruption caused by such an encounter will vastly exceed the government's claims of a few earthquakes and tidal waves and volcanoes erupting and perhaps one to two million lives lost. This is major Armageddon-level stuff, my friends.

  Zane stopped reading and slid the tablet back across the table to Agent McDonald. This kind of internet posting was exactly what he'd expected if Valerie broke her promise.

  "That lawyer boyfriend of hers sure has a big mouth," Colonel Hurtle chuckled coldly. "Typical douche bag attorney."

  "It was Captain Cameron's mistake to trust his ex-wife that led to this," said Agent Lyle.

  "And we both know plenty of our people told supposedly trustworthy family or friends who then blabbed. Goes without the territory. That's what COINTEL's for. Publish a few more articles on your 'rational science' websites labeling him as an anti-government conspiracy fruitcake spouting anti-science fake news - or have some of your paid commenters gang-bang him – and everything's good."

  Agent Lyle pushed his glasses further up his nose, his lips clamped in distaste, while Agent McDonald gave Hurtle a thin smile.

  "The rules are clear," said Agent Lyle. "Any actions that result in classified information being disseminated are punishable, at a minimum, by exclusion from the NUC Sanctuary Program. At a maximum, by many years in prison."

  "You're going to imprison a future Medal of Honor recipient or keep him out of Sanctuary?" Colonel Hurtle shook his head and snorted out a laugh. "We both know that's never gonna fly."

  "That's not your decision, Colonel."

  "Ain't yours, either, Agent."

  "This is a serious violation of security protocols."

  "Yada, yada. As if any of us can keep the lid on this bullshit forever."

  "Keeping the lid on, as you put it, prevents the breakdown of our society and massive loss of life before Animus even arrives, and allows us to keep doing all we can to preserve lives."

  "Your ex and anyone she told are disqualified, I can promise you that," Agent McDonald stated.

  "What about my son?"

  "If you aren't disqualified," said Agent Lyle, "of course you could bring him. If your former wife is willing to release custody."

  "When will I know if I'm disqualified?"

  "We can't say." Agent McDonald smiled. "But I'm sure they'll give upcoming Medal of Honor recipients top priority."

  Zane wanted to take a swing at his smug face, as he was sure Mallory would, but as a commander of crews he had to adhere to a higher standard. So he held his peace as the two SCI agents rose and left the room.

  "Don't sweat it, Zane," said Hurtle. "They were just blowing smoke up your ass. You won't be disqualified."

  "But my ex-wife could be."

  Colonel Hurtle shrugged as if to say no big loss there. "What about your old man? I assume you invited him?"

  "Yeah. He's thinking about it."

  "What's to think about?"

  "Fairness. Helping his friends out, that kind of thing."

  "Never realized Zeke was such a saint."

  "You don't think about the unfairness of being down here while they're dying up there?"

  "Sure. But we can't save everyone, Captain. Some people get a better deal than others. Not a damn thing you can do about that."

  Zane lowered his forehead onto the palms of his hands.

  "You being disqualified or not might be beside the point," said Hurtle, smiling suddenly. "There's one last mission being scheduled for Animus that might make all these dire predictions moot."

  Zane raised his head. The electric tingling in his body was as apprehensive and it was excited. "One last attempt to knock it off course or destroy it?"

  "Not directly. Mission Control, after much discussion in which Lance Spencer featured strongly, believes something or someone is in fact now running the show on Animus. The same thing that put you all on ice for three years. So they hatched this idea of going back and taking a shot at communicating with whatever that might be."

  "Who's going to lead this mission?"

  "Your name was mentioned." Hurtle leaned across the table closer to him as if to share something confidential. "Look, Zane, I know you went through a hell of a meat grinder out there. You are just getting your land legs back. But the feeling is, we gotta take this last shot, and who better to take it than you and yours?"

  Zane nodded in slow rhythm with Hurtle's words. "I wouldn't argue with that. But how are we supposed to communicate with this hypothetical intelligence? Blow up another holy shrine?"

  "It's a thought."

  Zane gave him a withering glance. Colonel Hurtle grinned.

  "But Control has a less destructive idea, suggested by Dr. Spencer: contact the AI 'Keeper' you worked with before. He believes the Keeper can communicate with the so-called 'Overseer,' assuming it is up and running."

  Zane stared at him. "You're assuming Animus, or whoever's manning the gates, will let us back in. And that this hypothetical entity is capable of altering Animus's path."

  "We choose to be hopeful on both counts."

  "We'd need Zzuullzhrun."

  "A given, considering that if you do get inside the Keeper appears to respond only to her commands. As it turns out, she's quite intent on returning to her world, even if means death." Hurtle shook his head with mock sadness. "Evidently, she's not overly fond of the food here."

  "Not surprising." Zane smiled, thinking quickly. "Maybe we can get her a reprieve with the ruling council on Animus."

  "If that doesn't conflict with the mission."

  Zane rubbed his throat. "And Patricia. Assuming she continues to recover okay."

  "Also pretty much a given, if she's ready in time."

  Zane had visited Patricia every day since her surgery two weeks ago, and it had been touch and go at first. She'd spoken in halting sentences, often with the wrong words, reminding Zane of a childhood neighbor lady who'd had a stroke – her jerking steps and movements reinforcing that impression. But she'd gradually improved, and always seemed pleased to see him. He shied away from giving himself any credit in her recovery, but he couldn't escape the sense that his visits buoyed her, especially when he gave her some small encouragement or compliment, which she appeared to eat up. But whatever his personal feelings, Patricia was flat-out the best crew member under his command.

  On the sixth day after surgery, when she was speaking more or less coherently, he'd asked her how it felt to be separated from her mainframe, to be autonomous. Did her psyche feel different?

  "It's like living in a large building where someone turned out all the lights but in my room," she'd answered. "You're still the same person, but you're cut off –"

&nb
sp; Colonel Hurtle's throat-clearing dragged him back to the now.

  "I suggested the original crew," he said, "I figured surviving the belly of the beast is a damn good recommendation. Control agreed."

  "I can't argue with that."

  Zane sat back in his seat, his gaze arching over Colonel Hurtle's earnest stare. His initial misgivings were surrendering to a tentative hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could still complete their mission and save billions of lives.

  "My ex-wife and my son get sanctuary," he said.

  "That's a done deal, Zane." Hurtle winked at him. "Only reason I didn't mention that fact to Beavis and Butt-head is that this mission is need to know."

  "You were just fucking with them."

  Hurtle offered an expansive shrug. "You know how boring it can get down here. A man needs to find entertainment where he can."

  IT WAS like old times, Zane thought, as the two teams slated for Operation Persuade met in Staging Room 3, the same room where Operation Intercept had been launched over three years ago.

  Some faces were familiar: Patricia, Dan Mueller, David Mallory, and Andrea from Zane's original crew, along with Horace, Adele O'Brien, and two other surviving Peacemaker crew members. Patricia appeared to be very close to her old self, except a small hesitation here and there in her sentences and a hint of self-doubt or perhaps sadness in her eyes.

  Dr. Lance Spencer was also in attendance. Missing were Dana Myers, Chief Exobiologist, and – Zane started to clench his jaw – Keira Quinn.

  The two new faces belonged to Lieutenant Gordon Haley, another Space Marine Recon, and Sergeant Burt O'Malley, a SPAL operator (Space, Air, and Land). Both were USSC Special Forces. Though this wasn't a military mission per se, Command clearly wanted to cover that possibility.

  And of course, Zzuullzhrun - her original varicolored tunic replaced by a dark blue jumpsuit rendered nearly invisible against her own iridescent blue.

  This time both crews would fly TR-3F fighter craft – the Cheyenne and the Ardent. Horse would captain the Ardent. Zane was once again overall commander.

  They flipped through the mission statement in their folders while Colonel Hurtle stood at the table smiling his usual ironically amused smile. Zzuull, predictably, wasn't given a copy of the statement, but sitting beside Zane, she appeared to follow his progress through the statement with interest. He'd heard that her English had greatly improved, and she had greeted him with a vibrant "How are you, Zane?" ("Owww urr zu Zane"). Perhaps she'd soon be reading if she stayed with them.