The Unincorporated Future (31 page)

A collective sigh of relief seemed to pervade the command sphere as J.D. resumed her normal duties—as if nothing more were going on than a simple drill or another in a series of tactical maneuvering exercises. But those around J.D. seemed to realize the enormity of what was about to happen, and began working with a heightened sense of urgency more typical of a ship under attack than of a ship completely safe from one. The holo-tank was now filled with a perfect replication of the planet below. J.D. stood up from her command chair and, placing her hands behind her back, stared contemplatively at one of humanity’s greatest achievements. What had once been a desolate, arid, and inhospitable environment had been, through the triumph of science and ingenuity of man, made into a resplendent world. Mars was green—so very, very green. Marked by innumerable and majestic mountain ranges thick with verdant forests and dotted with large splashes of cobalt seas. As a dreamscape there were few that could compare, and as planet none could compete—Mars had always been J.D.’s absolute favorite.

“Begin bombardment,” she said with her eyes still fixed on the planet and without a hint of remorse. In moments, tens of thousands of tracers from the rail guns of sixty heavy cruisers could be seen arcing their way toward three uninhabited regions of Mars, the plumes of destruction stunningly visible even from orbit. And it was then that Michael Veritas took the last of his four great pictures of the war.

Via Cereana
Ceres

The news Mosh had received from Mars tore at him like the claw of an angry predator. He now knew how terrible a mistake he’d made in trusting Sandra O’Toole—even in trusting his wife. But that was in the past, and Mosh McKenzie was not a man who lived in the past. He’d always charted the course of his life with the utter assuredness of a CEO and the deft maneuvering skills of a white-water river guide. Now was no different. One way or another, he would rectify the mistake he’d made in leaving one tyranny only to be complicit in propping up another. He entered the cordoned-off military bay and boarded the specially marked shuttle. He nodded to the pilot, who returned Mosh’s greeting with a cordial tip of the head. Mosh then settled into the copilot’s chair.

Once the shuttle was safely out of the bay and heading out toward the Via Cereana, he looked over to the pilot.

“Can we talk?”

Joshua Sinclair considered the question. “I think so.”

“A lot rides on this.”

Sinclair grunted his acquiescence. “Since we’re obviously not here to coordinate industrial capacity,” said Sinclair, making reference to Mosh’s purported reason for the rendezvous, “I suggest you cut to the chase.”

Mosh took stock of his friend of many years, nodded his quiet agreement, and allowed a grim smile to emerge. “I need your help to commit treason.”

AWS
Warprize II
Upper orbit of Mars

Jasper Lee looked up suddenly from his console. “Admiral, there’s a message coming through from planetside I think you may want to hear.”

J.D.’s ears perked up; then she nodded toward her XO.

“It’s coming from a far suburb of Burroughs, but it has an Alliance operative ident code.”

“I thought we already ID’d and secured all our agents.”

“We have, Admiral. All agents are now either working on Mars with field support or have already been brought up to the flotilla.”

A small grunt emerged from J.D. as she reviewed the message. She then looked back over to her XO. “Get me Nitelowsen. She should still be on the surface.”

After a moment, Marilynn’s voice popped through. “Fleet intelligence. How may I direct your call?”

J.D.’s lips curled upward. “Commodore Nitelowsen, Commander Lee is going to send you a message with an intelligence subcode. See if you recognize it.”

After a moment, Marilynn’s voice shot back. “It’s part of a recognition code, but only part. And it’s an old one, but still listed as secure. Could be a trap.”

“Do we respond?”

Both yes and no were heard simultaneously. J.D.’s eyes showed alarm as she looked over to her XO, who was desperately trying to locate the source of the communications breach. He looked up a moment later with a victorious grin as he sent both the name and location of the hacker over to his boss.

“I don’t think it’s a trap,” said the voice.

“Miss Snow,” said J.D., “so very nice of you to drop in.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“Might I ask how long you’ve been monitoring our command sphere communications and, more specifically, how you managed to break into my
personal
circuit?” J.D. sounded perfectly calm, but the look she shot her crew as she said it made most of those around her shrink under her withering stare.

“If I refuse to answer, will torture be involved?” cracked Amanda’s much-too-cheery voice.

“Not if you enjoy it, Amanda, no.”

“In that case, as the OA’s highest placed spy—presumably—it’s possible I learned a thing or two about tapping undetected into a communications grid. If it makes you feel any better, I’m using the training your people provided me with.”

“And presumably,” retorted J.D., “since ‘my people’ forgot to let us in on it, you’ll be gracious enough to show our techs exactly how you did it.”

“I swear,” broke in Marilynn, “I don’t know anything about it.”

“With proper clearance, of course,” added Amanda.

“Amanda, you’re on my ship now. I’m all the clearance you need.”

“Well, as long as you put it that way. Sure.”

“Good. Now, tell us about this signal of yours and why I should ignore the advice of my intelligence officer, who has yet to steer me wrong, and listen to you, a readily admitted master of duplicity.”

“Because if I’m right, the source you’re getting that message from may have intel worth having.”

“Worth risking fleet personnel for?”

“In my opinion, yes. However, I’m not suggesting you send anyone from fleet personnel.”

“Really,” piped in Marilynn, “and who would you send?”

“Me,” answered Amanda.

J.D. laughed out loud. “Well, I must admit, Amanda, your entertainment value alone may be worth our having to put up with your—” J.D. paused, searching for just the right word. “—‘eccentric’ nature.”

“Is that a no, Admiral?”

“Of course it’s a no, Amanda. You’re far too important to Secretary McKenzie for me to risk sending back to the planet you apparently barely escaped from. I should probably be court-martialed for not keeping you confined to your quarters. But the truth is, you’re a damned good babysitter.”

“Katy is a doll.”

“And up until now, you seemed pretty harmless.”

“I assure you, I am.”

J.D. gave a one-sided grin.

“If that’s who I think it is,” continued Amanda, “then I’m the one responsible for her plight.”

“Be that as it may—”

“—And we both owe her sister.”

J.D. looked down at the private communiqué Amanda sent immediately after speaking. When she saw the image displayed on her screen, J.D.’s demeanor suddenly changed.

“All right, Amanda, I’ll at least send a team of assault miners to investigate. If she checks out, they’ll bring her in.”

“I need to be there, Admiral.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t risk it.”

Another piece of information soon zipped across J.D.’s screen.

“Shit. I swear by Allah, Amanda—”

“Admiral?” asked Marilynn.

J.D. forwarded the message to Marilynn.

“We need her down here, Admiral.”

“Yeah,” agreed J.D. “Marilynn, it’ll be you and a contingent of AMs.”

“On it.”

“Amanda, you will go with them as an observer, only to provide information. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

Suburb of Burroughs
Mars

Amanda leaned up against the shuttle. There was now a contingent of assault miners standing guard around her.
Ironic,
she thought, given that only a few days before, some of those very same miners had been pointing their guns
at
her. She watched the last rays of weak light filter through the ever-thickening cloud bank and smiled sadly. It was probably the last sunset Mars would see for decades.

An assault miner farther out from the shuttle waved her arm to get Amanda’s attention. She recognized the gesture immediately: unknown party approaching. Amanda took out her DijAssist.

“What’ve you got?” she asked.

“Single target, female; scanners indicate she’s unarmed.”

“Is she carrying the ident chip?”

“Affirmative.”

Amanda breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s not shoot her first thing if we can avoid it, shall we?”

“No promises, ma’am,” answered the soldier. “You know how we gun-toting jarheads like to shoot things.”

“Your sacrifice is appreciated, dear.”

“Long as you put in a good word with the admiral.”

Amanda laughed.

A moment later, a lone individual could be seen walking up the road—though in the dying twilight, it was hard to make out exactly who it was. It could be Nadine, thought Amanda. Same height and weight, but this person looked somehow different. As the figure approached the assault marine, Amanda checked her DijAssist again and then knew for certain what she’d initially suspected. It was, in fact, Nadine Harper. But a Nadine whom Amanda would need to be reacquainted with, as the one she’d known was gone. Amanda nodded an
all clear
signal to the assault miner, who then let the woman pass. Nadine strode right up to Amanda and, without saying a word, handed her back her ident chip.

“There are five of us back there,” said Nadine, glancing over her shoulder, “but only one is conscious, if you can call it that. Every one of ’em’s an Alliance POW.”

“Are they wounded?” demanded the closest assault miner.

Nadine looked at the soldier like she’d just told a really bad joke. “You can call it that, I suppose. They’re all I could save of Angela Wong’s ‘guests.’”

The assault miner started to call in a full report to her sergeant. Nadine once again stared back down the road.

“Nadine,” demanded Amanda, “you must tell me, what happened to Angela?”

“What?” answered Nadine, turning her attention once again to the woman who’d saved her life, twice now.

“Angela Wong, Nadine. Where is she?”

Nadine nodded and smiled cruelly. She then slowly reached around her neck and unhooked a necklace that, in the dimming light of the last Martian day, seemed to be made of a string of badly formed pearls. It was only when Amanda looked closely at what Nadine was proudly holding up that she arrived at a frightening realization: They weren’t pearls after all—they were teeth.

*   *   *

Upon further questioning from Marilynn Nitelowsen, and with Amanda’s help, Nadine was able to direct the Outer Alliance contingent right to the door of Angela Wong’s chamber of horrors. There they found prisoners, torture chambers, labs, and all manner of other physical evidence testifying to the crimes committed in the name of preserving the incorporated system. The computers’ systems were still running, and much to the amazement of Marilynn’s intelligence staff, she somehow managed to disable the programs that should have destroyed all the incriminating data. With Marilynn’s curiously effective prowess on the machines, the OA intelligence corps were able to procure a list of every experiment ever done concerning a secret protocol known as shadow auditing. The records, noted Marilynn with both repugnance and joy, had been meticulous. Almost as if they were being prepared for a doctoral dissertation. She ordered all evidence carefully packed in the most evidentiary manner possible and then promptly sent the lot of it off to the flagship. All except one case file. Though there was no God she particularly believed in, Marilynn felt if there was one, he’d understand her motives. And so of the thousands of names carefully documented, along with the often painful and grotesque descriptions of their individual deaths, the name of one Patricia Sampson, sister of Brother Sampson, fleet chaplain to J. D. Black and inspiration to billions, ceased forever to exist from the rolls of the tortured.

*   *   *

As far as fleet intelligence was concerned, and by extension the government they represented, Nadine Harper had paid her debt to the Alliance in full. But Amanda knew, just by watching the way Nadine stared forlornly out the viewport as they left the dying planet for the relative safety of the
Warprize II,
Nadine’s debt would last in perpetuity.

After all this time, I still don’t know why Admiral Black allowed me to take and then distribute that picture: the so-called last of the great four. She’d just ordered the destruction of an entire planet’s ecosystem. And with that one order would cause almost as much human death and misery as was caused in the Sino-Indian war during the Grand Collapse. When she gave that order, she had to believe that she was going to be responsible for the greatest amount of human suffering in the war—would that she had been right. I see the moment I snapped that shot as clearly as the memory of my daughter’s first steps. J.D. is looking at the image of Mars as the first of three massive strikes are launched. I was with her when she was given the order and witnessed the struggle she went through at the moment she received it. Though I knew her to be torn, when it came time to launch those initial attacks, she did so unequivocally, and she did not flinch or, even for a second, look away. She just stood there, hands clasped firmly behind her back, staring purposefully at what to that moment had been the culmination of her amazing, improbable life. She was neither proud nor happy. I do not understand those who think they can see those emotions in the small part of her face revealed by the photograph. If I had to make a guess—and with J. D. Black’s thoughts, that’s all anyone can do: guess—I’d say she felt disappointment. But whether it was disappointment in herself, the Outer Alliance, the UHF, Mars, Fate, or the Allah she believes in, I could not say. What I can say is that she let me send that image without delay or censor. This part I have never told anyone, but now that she is gone, I suppose it won’t hurt. She asked—and it was a request, not a command—if she could name it anonymously. It was J. D. Black herself who ended up calling it by the name it has been known by all these years: “Shiva.”