Prodigal (7 page)

She motioned toward a satellite image of the reactor complex. Pallas zoomed in on the ancient facility, its lone cooling tower still jaggedly pointing toward the sky. Time had ravaged it even more than the nuclear accident that first earned Chernobyl its infamy. More ominous, though, were the collapsed sections and craters that remained after the bombing of the plant during Operation Scimitar—an act so heinous, it ended the wars of Consolidation.

The Collective had launched Scimitar as a way to flush out European Union separatists, a tough band of rebels that used the area as a home base to launch attacks against the new government. Shielded by the local populace—and a minefield of radioactive fallout—the rebels assumed that Chernobyl was the last place their enemies would mount an offensive. That gamble turned out to be a colossal mistake. Official history maintained that the rebels had sabotaged the plant themselves, blowing the lid off the number four reactor in an act of mass suicide. Darker rumors suggested that the Collective was actually responsible—specifically, that they had targeted the plant to wipe out the resistance in a single, deadly stroke. To this day, nobody knew the full truth, or how many had died. The region had been uninhabitable ever since.

“A sarcophagus of steel and concrete encases the damaged reactor,” Lea continued. “The decaying core is nominally contained inside, but over time the materials have become brittle and unstable. That’s why our mission profile calls for a remote insertion.” Pallas highlighted a section of road about twenty klicks inside the dead zone. “That’s our spot, right there. The distance minimizes the risk of disturbing the ruins and attracting attention, but it’s close enough for us to roll the rest of the way in our APC.”

“A personnel carrier on an empty road makes a juicy target,” Tiernan said. “What about a more stealth approach through the woods?”

Lea shook her head. “Too dangerous in the countryside. All those trees soak up radiation like a sponge. More than one hour in there and you’ll get cooked, even with protective gear. The road is the only safe way in or out.”

Tiernan sighed. “Well, at least we won’t have to worry about electronic surveillance,” he observed. “If background rads are too much for our sensors, the
Inru
won’t be able to use them either.”

“Which means we can get them before they even know we’re there.” Lea then directed Pallas to focus on one of the taller buildings in town, which stood a few blocks away from the power plant. “This is where we believe the
Inru
are holed up. It’s an old apartment complex, full of places to hide. Blueprints show the place has a basement, which is the most logical place for them to go. There’s cover from thermal satellite sweeps, plus enough shielding to protect them from the radiation.”

“A real hardcore party,” the lieutenant said, impressed. “So what’s the protocol?”

Lea handed the briefing over to Novak. “I’ve prepared your body armor with dual layers of specially resistant polyalloys,” the GME said crisply. “This
should
offer you limited protection from background radiation, increasing your safe-exposure times. Particle density in most areas is low enough for you to breathe without filters—though I wouldn’t recommend a leisurely stroll through town. Keep your activities limited to what’s absolutely necessary, then get out as quickly as possible.”

The members of the advance team swore under their breath. They bitched about every mission—it was what soldiers were supposed to do—but in this case Lea understood perfectly. Even though she could never express it in front of the others, she felt the same way about this place. Chernobyl didn’t want them there. The city didn’t want
anybody
there.

“What kind of levels are we talking about?” Gunny asked.

“Anywhere from twenty to two thousand roentgens, depending on where you are,” Novak noted dryly. “Which is why it’s advisable to watch your step. Should you chance to walk into a robust dose, I’m afraid there won’t be much I can do for you.”

“The most toxic zones are mapped out on the integrators I programmed for this mission,” Lea said, as those areas appeared in red on the display. “Your combat visors are also equipped with radiation detectors, so you’ll know your levels every step of the way. The primary danger, of course, is from the damaged reactor—but there’s also the park adjacent to the plant, and the town cemetery. The old graphite core is buried there, so don’t set foot inside under
any
circumstances.”

“Not unless you want to glow in the dark,” Pallas added.

Novak leveled an icy stare at him. A green line, meanwhile, twisted between the red zones, following a convoluted path through town that terminated at the apartment building.

“This corridor provides the least exposure,” Lea said, “so that’s our path.”

Tiernan examined the approach and frowned doubtfully. “There’s a lot of kill zones along the way, Major,” he warned, pointing to a number of tight squeezes between structures—perfect places to get boxed in with no way out. “We get caught in there, our backs are against the wall.” He looked up at Lea, searching her for clues. “What kind of contingency do we have?”

“None,” Lea said evenly. “We just fight—even if we have to pull the town out from underneath them.”

Her reply shocked Tiernan into silence. Lea knew she would hear more from him later—but for now she kept on going. “We’re talking about an opportunity to
end
this thing, tonight. That’s why I need this to go by the numbers, people. We do this right, the
Inru
won’t get a second chance. Everybody understand?”

The advance team nodded in agreement. Lea knew they prized the hunt as much as she did, in spite of the dangers—especially when the big game was at stake. They could smell
Inru
blood, which was just what Lea wanted.

“Stations,” she ordered.

The team disbanded to their landing positions, while Pallas left the display to assume control of the tactical interface. At the same time, Novak rounded the table and fixed Lea with a hard stare.

“Fifty roentgens,” the GME said in no uncertain terms. “That’s your limit. More than that and you’ll retreat, promise me.”

“Don’t worry,” Lea assured her with a weak smile. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sure you do, my dear. They
all
do—particularly the ones who don’t come back.”

With that parting shot, Novak left her alone with Tiernan. He hung back for a time while Lea busied herself with the display of the town, assessing its risks with the same cool detachment that had served her so well as a hammerjack. Lea missed the unbridled certainty of that world, where her victims had been merely virtual, the manifestation of some soulless corporate entity. Flesh and blood, as she had discovered, was totally different.

Absently, she checked her armor compartments one last time, running down her list of weapons and supplies. She paused for a moment over her medikit, counting out the ampoules of antirad elixirs and stims—including the speedtec doses she had requisitioned for just this mission. The amber liquid glinted at Lea, with the fascination of a deadly poison.

“You’re loaded for bear,” Tiernan observed, in the worn tones of someone who knew her better than she would have liked. “You think she’ll be there tonight, don’t you?”

Lea closed the medikit and stowed it back in her armor. She hated justifying herself to him, but always felt a compulsion to do just that. Tiernan was, after all, her XO—but Lea knew that his position had little to do with how she felt.

“I’m not taking any chances,” she replied, turning back toward him. “She’s one of the few senior commanders the
Inru
has left, so it makes sense that she would be involved. Besides,” she added, “this operation has her fingerprints all over it.”

“You should know. You developed the Avalon profile.”

Avalon.
Her shadow was so omnipresent, and still it sounded strange to hear the name spoken out loud. Lea, however, didn’t take the bait. Instead, she raised a curious eyebrow at her executive officer.

“You don’t need to tap-dance around me, Eric,” she said evenly. “If you have concerns about this mission, just tell me.”

“I’ve never been worried about the
mission,
” Tiernan reassured her. “You know this team would follow you anywhere, Lea—and that includes me.” He lowered his voice before continuing. “I just want to be clear about our objective. We’re about to drop into some seriously hazardous territory, and that means tough choices. I can’t make that call unless I know what’s important—neutralizing the
Inru,
or putting Avalon’s head on a spike.”

“At this point, I’d say they were one and the same.”

“Maybe they are—but where
your
head is makes a big difference.” He leaned in close. “If it comes down to saving one of us or taking Avalon out, what’s it going to be? You better make that decision right now, because in the field you might not get the chance.”

Lea narrowed her eyes at him, but Tiernan didn’t flinch.

“I’m aware of that, Eric,” she answered quietly. “I’m also aware of my responsibilities.”

“I know you are,” Tiernan said. “If I had the slightest doubt about that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But I won’t allow a personal vendetta to jeopardize the safety of my team, Lea. If I see that happening, I
will
pull the plug.”

Lea forced down a swell of anger—but only because she didn’t want to create an incident in the middle of the CIC. “That isn’t your decision to make,
Lieutenant,
” she snapped. “If you have a problem with that, you can stay back here with the support crew.”

“I go where my people go.”

“They’re my people too, Eric.”

“I know that,” he said, softening a little. “I just don’t want to be in a situation where one of us gets between you and Avalon.”

“That won’t happen,” Lea told him without the least bit of irony, “if you stay out of my way.”

That ended the conversation—not on the note Lea wanted, but in a way that served her purposes. Then she turned back to her work, looking up only when she knew Tiernan was gone. It was cruel, but to do anything less would have risked opening the discussion even further, in directions she couldn’t go.

It’s for his own good,
she told herself.
He doesn’t want to know you that way.

What frightened her was the thought that he already did.

A full moon illuminated the night sky as the transport started its descent, the ungainly lines and jutting angles of its airframe traced in a panoply of vaporous light. Electronic countermeasures had, until then, obscured the signature of the bulky craft, protecting it from the various missile installations that dotted the countryside; but as it broke the heavy cloud cover over the Chernobyl dead zone, the pilot disengaged the ECMs and took refuge in the permanent layer of radiation that blanketed the wastelands with an invisible haze. By the time the forest loomed in the cockpit window, the leaden clouds had rendered the terrain almost completely dark, visible only as a green-and-black mosaic through the pilot’s infrared goggles.

Lea, meanwhile, monitored the approach from inside the armored personnel carrier. The vehicle was parked on the aft cargo ramp of the transport, which opened into the frigid air as they neared the landing area. She was seated up front with her driver and watched the unwelcoming landscape roll by on a dashboard monitor that carried a feed from the cockpit. As the wind howled outside her window, what struck her most was the utter
lack
of human activity. In a world where urban metroplexes covered half a continent, here not a single light burned.

“Talon, this is Wanderer,” she heard Pallas say over her earpiece, his message peppered by light static. “We’re about one minute out. You guys ready?”

Lea glanced over at her driver, who nodded affirmatively.

“We’re all set, Wanderer,” she reported. “Sounds like your signal is dropping out. What’s the story?”

“We’re picking up some interference from stray radiation. I was afraid of this, Skipper. Our coded channels operate in the same bands, so it’s only going to get worse the closer we get to the source. That could mean we’ll have problems monitoring the mission from here.”

“What about the lower bands?”

“Hold on.” After a moment, Pallas came back on. “Those are marginal for data, but good enough for voice. Of course, in this dead spectrum any open transmissions will stick out like a sore dick.”

“Then we’ll maintain radio silence as long as we can,” Lea said. “Do your best with the passive feed, but no active bursts unless it’s an emergency.”

“Affirmative, boss. Thirty seconds. Prepare to disengage.”

“Acknowledged. Talon out.” Lea rose from her seat and poked her head into the rear of the APC. “Looks like we’re going in dark, people. Hyperband is spotty, so we’ll be on uncoded channels. That means we stay close—use the comm gear only when necessary. We don’t want to alert the
Inru
to our presence before we’re ready to take them down.”

A round of comm checks crackled as the members of the team strapped their helmets on, their features lit by the pale red glow of their visors. Tiny columns of information appeared in the heads-up displays in front of their eyes, keyed to sensors placed throughout their body armor. Lea studied the readings carefully as she flipped her visor down, paying the closest attention to the radiation counter. It was ticking at thirty microroentgens per hour—and that was within the confines of the APC’s shielded plates. Already, the transport was starting to kick up plumes of radioactive particles.