Convergence (3 page)

But he’d certainly not gotten unanimity.

A portion of the group would leave the Cavern to ensure they’d not be asked to participate. Many of those Outside heard of the plan and emailed to tell him they were perfectly happy right where they were in the human world and would remain in their current locations. Some moved up start dates on planned Outside missions to ensure they’d miss out on any actual fighting. They shared a mindset similar to the Aliomenti who agreed with the Alliance in principal but who refused to change allegiances. They were comfortable, and the revolution proposed brought with it the strong possibility of property loss, injury, or even death for those who remained behind. Will respected their right to disagree, but couldn’t help feeling a personal hurt that so many had left.

Each night, he dreamed of joining them. But he didn’t.

His greatest worry came from the possibility that some Alliance might leave and change allegiances to the Aliomenti. He and Hope had known that was a possibility, but it still hurt to know those he’d lived with for decades or centuries might emigrate to fight alongside Arthur Lowell. He knew they’d not reveal exact battle plans, for he’d kept the plans vague until certain he had only actual participants left. Still, their knowledge of an impending assault on Headquarters would be something Arthur and the Hunters would utilize. The element of surprise would be lost. They’d need to make up for that loss of surprise with speed of execution.

Even those who stayed to fight hated the final phase, the weapon of last resort and desperation, the one they’d prepared to ensure that even if the Aliomenti won the war with the Alliance, their dominance in the world would end. Will hated that weapon as well. But he also realized that it might be the only way to permanently end the war before the two groups rendered each other extinct.

Those staying in the Cavern were of the opinion that their choice to remain behind and defend the Cavern should make them immune to the effects of that final weapon by design, as the weapon would be triggered only if the invasion ended poorly. But they’d made certain Gena knew their beliefs, insulting her when she’d pointed out that they all won or lost together, and enjoyed the rewards and suffered the burdens together as well.

Will sighed. “I’m sorry you’ve had to live with that, Gena.” Self-preservation instincts never left humans, no matter how powerful or evolved. Those instincts merely changed forms.

“We all have, Dad.” Fil shrugged. “It’s difficult to get wide consensus on something. I’ve been recommending optimism. We’ll carry out the earlier phases of the plan to perfection, and the concerns and disagreements about the final phase will become moot.”

Will grimaced. He saw little reason to think or pretend that final weapon would remain dormant. “I hope you’re right.”

The site leaders moved to join their teams. Gena and Adam spoke with those remaining behind about the defenses the local teams were building in preparation for a likely invasion by the Aliomenti. Angel and Charlie spoke to those who’d be traveling with them to Eden, which would serve as a staging area for those traveling to and from Headquarters Island. Will and Fil spoke to those participating in the initial assault on Headquarters.

Will found the second member of their invasion force. She’d join Hope, who’d been there for quite some time invisibly preparing various technical aspects of the invasion. “Ready?”

Ashley checked the contents of her backpack and nodded at Will. “Everything’s here.”

Will extended his hand to her, and she shook as she zipped up her pack. “It’s time, then. Good luck, Ashley.”

Ashley teleported from the Cavern to a waiting sphere and set course for the Island.

Will flipped open the telecommunication link. “We’re underway, everyone.”

Then he buried his head in his hands and wept for those who’d die before all of this ended.

Athos stared outside once more
, leaning closer to the thick, clear glass-like material comprising the window his breath fogged. The view hadn’t gotten old yet, not even after days at sea. The submarine traveled at a depth where the now-waning sunlight still reached and illuminated the sights beneath the foaming breakers above. Fish of types he’d never before seen, in all manner of colors, darted around the ship in an ethereal silence. He’d cringed the first time a shark snapped up the slowest moving fish in the area, then watched with morbid fascination as predator devoured prey.

He would act as the shark in the upcoming encounter.

He glanced around the cabin. Porthos’ discovery of the hidden rebel base had triggered a meeting with the Leader. That meeting produced all manner of revelations. Porthos’ announcement that the Alliance base rested deep in the ocean water near the Antarctic resulted in little more than a shrug from the Leader, as if the man had known all along. The Leader charged Athos with planning and carrying out the invasion of the Alliance base, and Porthos to oversee defense of Headquarters Island. The decree stunned both Hunters. Athos preferred to lead the Island defense, while Porthos believed his discovery of the base made him best suited to launch the invasion. The Leader ignored both men. He ordered Athos to teleport at once to a spot that would provide him with the tools he’d need for his mission, and provided a mental image for teleportation.

It was a shipyard, located on the southeast corner of the island, a place Athos had never before known existed.

The shipyard showed signs of wear and tear, a site created as part of the post-Cataclysm rebuilding of Headquarters Island. Crews worked on a new yacht for the Leader, dubbed the
Genevieve
, but that wasn’t Athos’ target. His eyes found a dozen gray-skinned ships of unusual form resting low in the water. The Leader insisted that the strange ships would be the key to the successful completion of his role in the upcoming war with the Alliance.

A man teleported nearby and waved to gather Athos’ attention. “Welcome, Hunter.” His sandy brown hair fluttered in the wind, and he peered at Athos with dark green eyes. “I understand you are to lead us in an attack mission against the traitors?”

Athos stared at him. “How—?” He recovered quickly, though. The Leader wouldn’t tell this man that Athos hadn’t been aware of the strange ships or this shipyard until an hour earlier. “Of course. Why else would I be here?”

The man nodded. “Of course, sir.” He held out his hand. “I’m Scott, by the way.”

Athos ignored the offered hand, and Scott withdrew it with some hesitation a moment later. “Tell me more about the ships. Speed, crew size, passenger capacity, weapons, and communication abilities.”

“Of course, sir,” Scott replied. “The submarine hulls are able to withstand pressures found at an ocean depth of approximately two point eight miles beneath the surface. The engines permit a cruising speed of up to one hundred miles per hour. We can reach a significant portion of the planet aboard the submarines in just a few days.”

Athos wasn’t impressed. Several
days
to reach a destination? Teleportation was a far superior option, but that wasn’t available in this situation. A shame they couldn’t build machines able to teleport people and weapons to remote locations. But he knew that to be impossible. “Good. Weapons?”

“Each craft has a dozen torpedoes available. Guidance systems are accurate to within two feet from two miles distant. We are working to improve—”

“Comms?”

Scott paused with his mouth still open. A seabird squawked in the distance as he resumed. “Radio signals are encrypted. Our
friends
could tap into the signal and not understand a word we were saying. The signal can reach Headquarters Island from any part of the planet, with a delay of… less than three seconds.” He paused after uttering the figure, looking at Athos with hesitation.

Athos wasn’t certain what that meant, but three seconds wasn’t much time. He forced a look of deepest concern to his face and Scott wilted just a bit. “Mm hmm. Anything else I need to know?”

Scott considered. “Each submarine includes two submersibles. They have depth ratings similar to the submarines themselves but a much shorter range, perhaps ten miles or so. Not advisable for longer journeys.”

Athos nodded. He glanced at the name on the yacht and pointed. “What’s the significance of the name
Genevieve
?”

“I’m not sure, sir. The Leader requested the name himself.”

There’d be no questioning that choice. “What about the submarines? Do they have names?”

“Not yet, sir. Each of the other eleven captains has names selected, but will defer to you if you’d like to provide the names yourself. We await the name for your submarine to lead the fleet.”

He’d known the name he’d select in an instant.

That had all happened two weeks earlier. They’d painted the name
Tacitus
on his ship just prior to departure, as Porthos—frowning and moody—and the Leader looked on. Only those two understood the significance of the name. The Leader, in a still-rare show of sentimentality, nodded his assent to the name choice. The Hunter Aramis, once known as Tacitus, continued to live in a vegetative state. The skirmish with Will Stark ended with the Assassin skewering the Damperer with a blow meant for the Alliance leader. Athos had never before seen the Leader so concerned about any individual in the organization. Men and women the Leader had known far longer than the Hunters had died or committed suicide during his own tenure. Will Stark, once a good friend of the Leader, had turned traitor. One of the first Aliomenti, a member of the Leader’s inner circle known as Adam, had been killed while in the process of aiding the Alliance. Yet, not once before had the Leader shown such deep sadness or remorse about the loss or potential loss of one of his people.

Athos felt a pang of jealousy. Did Aramis mean so much more to the Leader than all the rest? Why? Would the Leader react in a similar fashion if his Tracker were the one in a coma?

He didn’t know.

“Sir?” Scott’s voice carried through the communication system, startling him. “We’re now entering the zone identified as the location of the rebel base by the Hunter Porthos.”

Athos nodded. “All members of the fleet are to move to monitoring stations at once. We’ll begin canvassing the area in fifteen minutes.”

The fleet divided into four sets of three, crisscrossing on north-south and east-west paths, each trio of subs one hundred feet deeper than the set above. After completing a pass through the target zone at a specified depth, each group would circle around while diving an additional four hundred feet for their next pass through. Members of each submarine watched with eyes until the sunlight faded away and then with instruments for any sign of a physical structure that might house a collection of Energy-using traitors.

Time crawled by.

Athos watched the world outside through the view screen even after they lost all natural lighting. They piloted in the dark using radar and sonar and other technology he didn’t understand, beyond knowing they prevented collisions with anything large enough to damage a submarine. Each sub had an identified partner vessel where crew members could teleport in the event of catastrophic damage to their submarine, a precaution established to avoid certain death.

One captain asked what would happen if multiple submarines suffered such damage. Athos didn’t answer.

With each dive, the Energy permeating the submarine intensified. But three hours later, they’d found nothing. No settlement. No strange ships housing the cowardly Alliance.

“Sir?” Scott hailed him once more. “The deepest subs are now to their maximum safe depths. We… sir, we can’t safely travel any deeper.”

Athos clenched his teeth. Had Porthos failed them? “The
Tacitus
will make one final dive, then. The
Chameleon
will take my crew aboard should we experience hull failure. Should we fail to locate the settlement on this dive, we will make the journey back to the surface at a safe pace.”

He could almost see Scott nodding. “Understood, sir. Good luck to you and your crew.”

He could feel the tension in the submarine as the vessel began the deep dive, could almost feel the miles of frigid water pressing down with an unfathomable weight. How had Stark managed to dive to such depths centuries ago if Porthos had in fact located the proper entrance point? Was Alliance technology so much more advanced than Aliomenti technology even then?

The
Tacitus
slid further into the depths of the frigid ocean water, and Athos hissed out a held breath as he heard the creaking echoes around him, wondering if the submarine hull would hold together. The crew began to furtively glance around, staring at the walls, as if shocked they remained intact. They passed the previous lowest trio of subs by ten feet, by twenty feet. The instrumentation detected nothing. They passed fifty feet, and still—

“Sir! A crack!”

The shout awakened the bridge, and everyone scrambled. Each man aboard had been screened to ensure sufficient Energy for long-range teleportation, and each teleported instantly to the
Chameleon
. Athos’ pulse rate skyrocketed, and he took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself as the sweat poured from his brow. He shivered.

Scott moved to Athos, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay, sir?”

Athos nodded. “Report?”

Scott glanced around at the men. “You left just in time, sir. Our sensors show that the
Tacitus
has suffered a complete hull breach and the craft has ruptured. It will sink to the sea floor.”

Athos frowned and wiped his brow, and then nodded. “I’ll need a moment at the comm station.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Alone.”

“Of course, sir.”

They made their way through the now-crowded bridge. The man handling communications with the other submarines moved aside. He handed the headset to Athos and stepped away. Athos sat in the chair. “Connect me with Headquarters, please.”

Moments later, the voice of the Leader came online. “Report, Athos.”

Athos glanced at the comms man, who looked to his captain for guidance. Scott nodded his head away from the comm station. Both men moved away, giving Athos some privacy.