Aurora Renegades Page 9

  She placed a hand at her throat and tried clearing it. “ ‘They?’ ” Her voice barely squeaked out, scratchy and hoarse, as if she’d never used it before.

  “That’s Annie and Stanley. They might join us on shore eventually, but probably not.”

  “Annie and….” She whipped around, searching. “Meno?”

  The form of a seagull took shape out of thin air in front of her. Ashen wings flapped against a breeze she hadn’t noticed until now to hold the bird at her eye level. ‘I’m here, Mia. But you should go talk to your friends for a while.’

  She slowly turned full circle and let out a long sigh. “I’m definitely dead.”

  Morgan snorted from her chaise. “Not even.”

  “What is this, then?”

  Devon took a sip of his drink. “It’s our playground—our escape. It’s whatever we decide it is.”

  Mia stared at him until he visibly deflated. “It’s kind of hard to explain. It’s a…space, built at the quantum mechanical level—where waves and particles are one and the same, where the qubits are superposited and everything is a probability, thus anything can be. It’s the natural extension of the Noesis we created.”

  She watched in contemplation as one of the dolphins started ‘walking’ backwards three-fourths out of the water. “Does time pass while we’re here?”

  “Sadly. Though since we’re here via our connections with the Artificials, it’s effectively passing at their speed—so not too much time in the outside world, if you don’t focus on it.”

  Morgan groaned. “Sadly for certain. I spend far too many hours here. I am so bored.”

  The outside world…. “What about the Metigens? Did we win?”

  Morgan rolled over and snatched Devon’s drink out of his hand. “Fuck yes, we won. Kicked their shredded asses back through the portal.”

  Relief flooded her mind. It made her lightheaded, so she went and sat on the edge of the third, empty chaise. Her voice was soft, for she dreaded the answer. “How long?”

  Devon smiled like it didn’t matter. “Seven months.”

  She drew in a sharp breath…but it could have been far worse. She had feared years had passed without her knowledge. “Where’s Alex? She didn’t get injured, too, did she?”

  “Nah. She and Caleb went through the portal chasing after the Metigens a month or so ago. Took Valkyrie with them.”

  Morgan snickered. “They got married first.”

  “Married?” Mia threw her head back and laughed. Oh my, how good did it feel to laugh? “Of course they did.”

  When the laughter finally subsided, she walked over and took the drink from Morgan, sat back down and took a sip. It tasted similar to a lemon version of a Polaris Burst, plus an abundance of salt. “So what’s with the dolphins…and the seagull?”

  Devon shrugged. “They took human form the first few visits, but it was weird. Either they looked like us, which was weird, or they looked like other people, which was also weird. Sometimes they’re animals—Stanley fancies being a cougar, I don’t know what that’s about—or birds, like Meno here. Sometimes they’re just floaty lights. But they seem to enjoy being dolphins when we’re at the beach.”

  “So this…place…isn’t always a beach?”

  “God, no. We can even superimpose it on reality—be both places at once. But honestly, wouldn’t you pretty much always rather be at the beach if you could?”

  Mia nodded idly in agreement. After another sip she handed the drink to Devon and glanced around to find Seagull Meno waddling about on the sand. “So how bad is it? I know I’m hurt—I must be. I remember being on Romane with Colonel Jenner’s squad during the Metigen assault, then an excruciating pain exploded in my head, then…nothing. Nothing until a few minutes ago.” Or had it been an eternity? She had no recollection of being consciously aware until a few minutes ago, but it felt as if she’d been unaware for a very long time.

  Seagull Meno pattered over and hopped onto the chaise beside her.

  ‘A man who was indirectly working for the Metigens blew up your home on Romane, with me in it. The abrupt severing of our connection caused a massive stroke in your cerebral cortex. You’ve been in a coma since then. Luckily my hardware wasn’t completely destroyed, and Dr. Canivon still had the imaging data she captured for Noetica.

  ‘At Alex Solovy’s insistence, the Alliance rebuilt me, and I…rebuilt you. In a sense. I helped your brain tissue regenerate and, together with some new biosynth implants, we were able to restart your cerebral processes and restore normal brain activity.’

  “Thank you. I’d hug you, but, well, you’re a seagull. And my body? Is it in one piece?”

  Devon sat up and dropped his elbows to his knees. “You’ve been lying in a hospital bed for seven months, so you’ll be weak—docs kept all the usual stimulation procedures running, though, so you shouldn’t be in too bad of shape.” His eyes slid away from her. “And your head’s shaved, so be ready for that. I’m sure Meno can grow your hair out quickly for you once they remove all the sensors.”

  Bald? She cringed, but recognized it was a small price to pay when she should be dead. “Right. So, the beach is lovely, but I haven’t seen the actual world in a long while. Can I wake up now?”

  Seagull Meno fluttered around on the chaise. ‘There is one more thing you need to know. I continue to operate in certain gaps in your brain where we’ve been unable to restore full functionality. Dr. Canivon and I hope this isn’t a permanent dependency, but for now, our connection must remain open. I must be with you always.’

  “I’m fine with that, Meno. Remember back on Romane, I said you were part of me now. So you are.” She gazed at the others. “What do I do?”

  Devon exhaled in evident reluctance and stood. “Come on, Morgan, time to return to the grind.” He cupped his hands and shouted toward the ocean. “Hey, you two—playtime’s over!” Then he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Close your eyes. It’ll be easier on you.”

  She took a deep breath and did as instructed.

  Silence fell.

  Several seconds passed, and she tried to reopen them. Her lids were sticky and heavy, as if the lashes were glued together. Her eyes watered—it stung—but after considerable coaxing her eyelids opened a sliver. Light seeped in through a hazy, glycerin-coated filter, yet even with the haze her irises recoiled, forcing her lids closed.

  A little daunted, she paused to take stock of her situation in other ways. She felt cool fabric beneath her palms and softness beneath her head, evidence she lay on a bed. Not surprising. Now that she listened more closely, there were noises, but nothing noteworthy. Merely the sounds of living.

  She steeled herself and tried again, forcing her lids open and blinking rapidly to try to clear the gooey haze.

  It was so damn bright. But gradually blurry images solidified: the rail of a hospital bed; a long window to her left; beyond the bed, a closed door.

  As the harshness of the real world came crashing in on her, she began to panic. Meno, where are you? Are you there?

  I’m here, Mia. I told you, I’ll always be here.

  Is this reality? Truly?

  It is.

  …All right.

  There was movement in the corner of her vision, followed by the warmth of a hand atop hers. “Take your time.”

  She struggled to turn her head, shocked at the effort the act required. Hazel eyes and pale ginger hair coalesced into the visage of Dr. Canivon. The woman stood beside the bed, a rare comforting expression softening her features.

  “Welcome back to us, Mia.”

  8

  EARTH

  London: Earth Alliance Assembly

  * * *

  The Chairman of the Military Oversight Committee glared down her narrow, prim nose at Miriam. “Admiral Solovy, please explain to the Committee how it is that the most powerful and dangerous weapon in the military’s arsenal—a weapon that would be illegal absent a dubious Executive Order issued by the Prime Minister—is cu
rrently entrusted to a civilian who is scarcely more than a child, and why it is you believe this weapon is safe in his hands.”

  Miriam displayed no outward irritation at the tone or content of the question. Inwardly she wondered how many more hours she would be forced to subject herself to the condescension emanating from the dais.

  The arrangement of the room placed the Committee members in a physical position of authority, raised a full three meters above the witness tables and ensconced behind an imposing stretch of burnished brass paneling. The optics presumably had the desired effect on most witnesses. But she did not rise to Fleet Admiral of the Earth Alliance Armed Forces by being easily intimidated.

  They had kept Project Noetica shrouded in complete secrecy for as long as possible, but there were expiration dates on wartime executive orders and oversight checks on wartime actions. The public at large remained ignorant for now, though rumors percolated through various circles. There were no recording devices in the room, and the hearing was sealed not only to the public and the press but also to Committee aides and other members of the Assembly.

  But the Military Oversight Committee had spent the last two months rooting through every file, process and record Noetica had produced before calling her to testify. Her and Defense Secretary Mori, as they were apparently under the mistaken impression the man had played some definable role in Noetica and the final days of the war.

  Mori was a coward, and if he’d been allowed to make decisions of consequence during the war they would all be dead now. Yet in the safety and shelter peace afforded, he’d been granted the role of respected expert and voice of authority. The Secretary’s presence two meters to her right added another layer of distaste to an already thoroughly distasteful affair.

  She notched her chin up minutely. “Are you referring to Devon Reynolds, Chairman?”

  “Don’t be coy, Admiral. You know perfectly well I am.”

  “Mr. Reynolds had been a full-time civilian consultant in the employ of EASC Special Projects for over two years when he became a participant in Project Noetica. As the lead troubleshooter for Project ANNIE and one of the foremost quantum computing specialists in the Alliance, he understood her design, logic and structure better than anyone alive. He and Annie enjoyed a close and collegial working relationship as well. To be blunt, no military candidates came anywhere close to equaling his qualifications.”

  “He’s a programmer, not a soldier. He had no experience in military warfare or tactics. Surely a high-ranking officer possessing the necessary core skillset could have been trained in short order.”

  “How short of order, Chairman? I realize time dulls memories, so allow me to refresh yours. We had no longer than a week before the Metigens reached Earth—a week which would’ve seen the death of millions on Seneca and Romane—”

  The woman’s voice rose to drown Miriam out. “Our relations with the Federation are not the subject of this hearing.”

  “I didn’t say they were. I said we had no time.”

  “Well. We do have time now, don’t we? If Noetica is allowed to continue—and that is a significant ‘if’—it needs to be institutionalized as a classified military research program and removed from active service.”

  Mori spoke up. “I happen to agree, Chairman. I also agree we should disconnect Mr. Reynolds and find a more suitable replacement.”

  She canted her head in Mori’s direction. “Disconnect him? After six months of being joined with one another, he and ANNIE have developed a symbiotic relationship not merely on a psychological level but also a physical one. His brain has been irrevocably altered by the connection, as, arguably, has hers.”

  “ ‘Hers’? Anthropomorphizing machines now, are we?”

  Miriam’s gaze swerved back to the dais. “If you had read the reports as meticulously as you claim, Chairman, you would know Artificials tend to assign gender identities to themselves. I’m respecting its preference.”

  “It’s a machine, Admiral Solovy.”

  “If you mean it’s constructed of synthetic materials, then yes, it is. Devon Reynolds is not.”

  The Chairman cleared her throat. “The status of Mr. Reynolds will be determined at a later date. We face a larger issue: the security of Noetica and the technology behind it. If the means to create additional Prevos were to fall into the wrong hands, the consequences would be catastrophic.”

  “The ‘means’ reside on the very bleeding edge of both science and medicine. Dr. Abigail Canivon is the only person who fully understands the procedure. Further, examining either half of a Prevo will not yield answers to the extent you suggest. It is not something that can be reverse engineered.”

  “Perhaps not. But ignoring for the moment the fact the Federation possesses a Prevo over which we exercise no control—and the fact you now have not one, not two, but three active Artificials on EASC grounds—let us do discuss the fact that your daughter has run off with the Artificial most intimately involved in helping Dr. Canivon develop the Noetica procedure, has she not?”

  Miriam’s jaw tightened. “My daughter received permission to take possession of the Artificial known as ‘Valkyrie.’ ”

  “Permission from EASC—which means from you—not permission from this Committee. And she did not have permission to traverse the Metigen portal and vanish.”

  “Actually, she did.”

  Miriam took great pleasure in the brief but unmistakable look of surprise on the woman’s face. “What do you mean, Admiral?”

  “I not only authorized but requested that she undertake a mission to learn more about what exists beyond the portal.” It was a lie, but it had the advantage of being a believable one. She and Alex had discussed this very question several times in the preceding months. Discovering the answer to it was indeed important, albeit something she never would have asked Alex to pursue due to the danger inherent in it. Little surprise, really, when Alex had done it anyway.

  “With a reputedly former Senecan Intelligence agent.”

  “With her husband. I’m sorry, I was under the impression we were now allies with the Federation.”

  “Again, a topic for a later date. Why weren’t we informed of this ‘mission?’ ”

  Miriam kept her expression scrupulously neutral, for the words alone were quite sufficient. “You aren’t informed of many missions, Chairman. This is an oversight committee, not a strategic one.”

  The Chairman grew more agitated and appeared to be on the verge of losing her composure. “Why didn’t you send a military reconnaissance or special operations team? For a dedicated military officer, you seem to be turning to civilians to do the military’s job rather a lot of late.”

  “Because I did not wish to start another war when we have not yet recovered from the last one. A single civilian ship—particularly one benefiting from both the knowledge of an Artificial and the experience of an intelligence agent—is far less likely to engender weaponized conflict than multiple military craft.”

  Mori’s eyes had grown wide beside her. “But we told the Metigens we wouldn’t go looking for them!”

  She allowed herself a small smile. “Actually, we didn’t.”

  Seattle

  Across an ocean and a continent another hearing came to a conclusion even as Miriam’s hearing was starting to get interesting.

  Now Richard Navick stood on his porch and stared at the front door to his home. Their home.

  Will had designed it from scratch and overseen every aspect of its construction twelve years earlier. The lot on the banks of Lake Sammamish cost a small fortune, but they’d recouped some of the expense by acquiring materials at cost from W. C. Sutton’s suppliers. It had still set them back financially, but they’d never regretted it. This was an ideal and personal home. A refuge.

  How was he supposed to tell Will? His husband would blame himself, clearly, and there was nothing Richard could do to prevent it. There was no way out of the guilt and recriminations guaranteed to follow.

  He re
hearsed what he would say while he stared at the door. “Will, the Ethics Council found out I was married to a Senecan spy. I’ve been fired—asked to retire—resign—dishonorably discharged.” Surely the last part could wait until the dust had settled? But that would be lying. There had been too much lying in this house, and they’d agreed there would be no more.

  Richard struggled to keep his heart rate steady as he opened the door and stepped inside. He was out of practice—it had been too long since he’d been in the field where such a skill might mean the difference between living and dying. His voice sounded raspy as he called out. “Will, I’m home. Where are you?”

  Silence answered, and only then did it occur to him that he hadn’t viewed his messages since before the hearing. He’d spent the trip home in a fugue, his brain cycling the fateful declarations of the Ethics Council in an endless loop. Sure enough, there was a message time-stamped two hours earlier from Will saying he had an unscheduled meeting with a difficult client and was going to be late.

  Richard sank against the foyer wall and allowed the oppressive silence to overtake him.

  Will Sutton dragged himself through the door at 2130, frustrated and annoyed. It was neither his nor his company’s fault that Figro Limited’s design requirements were not in fact their design requirements. Architecture did not involve mind-reading, much to the Figro CEO’s surprise.

  “Richard? Sorry I’m so late.”

  He received no response, but Richard could be in the shower or on a comm. Will shrugged his jacket off and hung it on the rack in the foyer then wandered into the living room. The door to the back porch was open, allowing a frigid breeze to drift through the house and making him reconsider losing the jacket. He elected to check outside first and appraise the situation before deciding whether to retrieve it.

  “Richard?” He stepped onto the porch.

  Richard raised a glass in his direction from one of the hand-crafted teak deck chairs but didn’t look over. Will glanced at the half-empty bottle of bourbon perched precariously on the railing. It wasn’t uncommon for them to share a drink or two at night, but he was fairly certain the bottle had been full this morning.