Redemption Protocol (Contact) (61 page)

Millions of pieces of data flew though his mind as he worked; flight profiles, approach vectors, defense matrices, simulations of mission segments and probabilistic assessment of outcomes.

He worked quickly, dextrous and efficient, not a single movement wasted. He was an automaton, his emotions in full emergency shutdown to maintain vehicle integrity. He knew that if he thought about Forge and what this meant to him, even momentarily considered it, it would be like deploying a parachute drone – the next instant ripping out an emotional tornado that would consume him.

It wasn't time to think, it was time to fight.

He pulled himself into his aerial frame and locked his suit into the elliptical bubble that formed the cockpit of the hypersonic rocket.

It was time.

The vehicles erupted from the viscous liquid like geysers bursting from molten lava. The surface of the lake boiled as his flotilla vanished into the sky.

Nine hundred seconds to target.

 142. 

Arzbad-Framander Zuelth was deep in prayer, his lungs full of incense, when the divine intervention began. His transmitter activated and he began to receive a stream of access codes.

Origin.Destiny:

#1.1.1# Formed foam. Western entrance. Layer 1. #343878# Key follows...

#1.1.2# Sense mines. Western entrance. Layer 1. #343880# Key follows...

#1.2.1# Static defense station. Western entrance. Layer 2. #454910# Key follows...

A blessing.

A gift.

A message.

A sign.

Zuelth’s heart filled with joy. No unbeliever would be able to keep them from realizing their destiny now. The keys to the Redeemer’s prison cell were in his grasp. A way to free the Blessed Harbinger of Purity and Light from right under the nose of the infidel. Zuelth’s eyes filled with tears. It was the prophecy coming true in his lifetime and the chosen conduit was him. He was truly blessed. And the blessings continued to drop into his lap, the codes accumulating like cherry blossom in the spring.

Zuelth finally had a task for his finest, most devoted and most spiritually pure warriors.

“Bring me the Nmr Qátl.”

 143. 

Stone stood on the hook platform, resigned to his open captivity. Tyburn towered over him, standing braced against the violent gusts howling out of the shaft. The wind shrieked like a million cats committing suicide.

Snow blasted across the hook platform and plastered Stone’s suit. The gusts came from all angles as the wind was confounded by the unfathomable topology of the shaft.

Stone glanced down at the limpet on his chest. He guessed that Tyburn wouldn't blow him up while he was standing next to him.

“You sold out to the ORC. You’re a criminal. A thief.”

Tyburn leaned over him so close that their visors touched. Stone gulped. Tyburn’s voice was menacing.

“Don’t ever call me a criminal. You will never understand the sacrifices I’ve made for my people.”

“It must be hard for you to sacrifice other people.”

“You will never know how hard.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

Tyburn straightened.

“I have the strength to defeat you, Stone, so I will live and you may not. That is nature. The idea that we steward the weak, the botched, the broken and the damned might be admirable charity, but as a race it is short sighted.”

Stone looked at Tyburn, wondering if their security chief had lost his mind.

“Why are you doing this?”

Tyburn gazed out over the shaft.

“Humans occupy a special place in creation, Stone. We have the categorical imperative to survive. God demands it. And survival of the fittest demands leadership.”

Tyburn stepped forward and threw his arms out as if to harness the wind. The hook platform, poised on the lip of the abyss, was Tyburn’s pulpit and the countless wraiths of cloud swirling in the maelstrom were his adulating masses.

“The people are a vacillating crowd of children, Stone. They constantly waver between one idea and another.”

Stone squinted up at Tyburn, who appeared to be clutched in the transcendental grip of destiny, or put another way, madness. Stone wished he was brave enough to push Tyburn over the edge. Dutch McDaniels wouldn't have done it. Dutch was brave enough but pushing from behind wasn't his style. Havoc was more pragmatic, Stone thought. He'd have Tyburn over the edge in an instant.

Tyburn continued his address to Stone and the universe.

“The receptive powers of the masses are pathetic and their understanding is feeble. The great majority are so feminine in character that they are ruled by sentiment instead of reason. They need leadership, Stone. Absolute leadership. From gifted individuals who are born to rule. It is natural selection. We leaders are entrusted with the future of our species.”

Stone found Tyburn's insanity oddly fascinating.

“We?”

“I am the leader of our time, Stone. It is my destiny. I have absolute authority and demand unquestioning obedience. I am auctoritas, the living law. My actions are legal by consequence of being mine.”

Completely fucking nuts, Stone thought.

“When they finally discover the center of the universe, Tyburn, you're going to be very disappointed to learn it’s not you.”

“I have been chosen, by destiny and by my people.”

“Your people?”

“My movement. I gave my conditions for victory and they accepted. The twin republics must be restored to the Karver dominion. People of the same blood should be in the same realm. The realm is all and we are naught without it. From there we shall conquer outward.”

Stone shook his head.

“Were you dropped on your head as a baby?”

“Politics has failed, Stone. Again we stand on the brink of war. Can not the military do better than politics? The answer is self-evident. The military prowess is in survival. Humanity must battle outward. We are predators and our nature is conquest.”

Stone felt himself being drawn into this nonsense despite himself, like a palm squirrel hypnotized by a cobra. He pushed back.

“And for the people?”

“For the common man is sacrifice. The ultimate glory is to die a heroic death.”

“I thought you said you were religious? I thought that you believed in God?”

Tyburn laughed.

“Saint Alexander himself celebrated sacrifice, demanded total obedience and saved his people through his absolute leadership.”

“He didn't save them all though, did he?”

“The parable of the sacrifice of Alexander's son is an inspiration.”

“Why are you always sacrificing others and not yourself?”

“My duty is to lead. It is the burden of the leader that they must stay through the fight and cannot escape through glorious death.”

Stone shook his head again.

“Have you met the Gathering? You have a lot in common.”

Tyburn spat venom.

“Don't talk to me about those savages. They are disgusting; a lower form of life. We must be pure and reject the impure.”

“Reject the impure? Ethnic cleansing?”

“It worked at Jemlevi, didn't it?”

Stone recoiled in horror.

“I'm not sure that Havoc thought so.”

“The dog does not think for the master.”

In the heat of the moment Stone missed the significance of Tyburn's statement.

“History will call you a mad man.”

Tyburn laughed.

“I will provide a propagandistic casus belli. Its credibility doesn't matter. The victor will not be asked whether he told the truth. He will create the truth.”

Stone raised an eyebrow.

“Tyburn, if you speak in the forest but no one can hear you, are you still talking as much shit as you are now?”

Tyburn turned toward him, his eyes on fire.

 144. 

Havoc flew fast and low, his mapping sliding forward as he sped over Whittenhorn’s five thousand kilometer exclusion zone.

He assessed the approaching terrain and his vectors of attack. He knew Forge's problem was force concentration. Forge was defending a static position and would situate his strongest force close to the shaft for it to be effective against the full arc of attack, though he wouldn’t want the conflict to come too close in case he got caught in the crossfire.

Despite the odds, Havoc thought that he had some factors in his favor. First, Stone's discovery may give him some element of surprise. Despite Forge knowing about his approach, he probably wasn’t as prepared as he’d like to be.

Second, he led a full strength aerial assault package with an atypical composition toward a static defensive position. Whereas a typical eighteen drone formation might have three or four electronic warfare platforms, he had nine, and they were the best.

Third, and perhaps his most potent as well as primitive advantage, was raw speed. His hypersonic aerial frame and platforms were traveling at over six kilometers per second.

His chances hinged on one key variable – the
Intrepid
, for both its sensory and offensive capability. If the ship weighed in on Forge’s side then Havoc’s situation would degenerate quickly. Ship lasers were fierce weapons – concentrating enough energy to power a metropolis on a single point. At the ranges involved, aiming was hitting. There was only one rule of engagement – don't get hit. Personal lasers might be able to disrupt enemy sensors and munitions, but taking on a phase array like the
Intrepid’s
Hel was as futile as fighting God.

If Yamamoto followed through on Whittenhorn’s threat Havoc would have to ditch or die.

 145. 

Zuelth watched Nmr Qátl Mourynho prostrate himself before him. The perfume of heavy incense loitered in the air.

“Look at me, Nmr Qátl Mourynho.”

Mourynho raised himself up. His eyes were orbs of solid gold.

Zuelth transferred the purported Alliance codes to Nmr Qátl Mourynho.

“Our Father, the One True God, has blessed us with a way past the heathens and into the pyramid.”

The solid gold eyes stared back at him, unblinking.

“If these codes are correct, you will get through. If not, you will join your brothers in paradise. The Glorious Redeemer’s freedom is at stake. This is a task for a warrior with unbreakable faith. Are you that warrior, Nmr Qátl Mourynho?”

The elite soldier prostrated himself again.

“I am, Arzbad-Framander Zuelth.”

Zuelth nodded slowly.

“You are the instrument of prophesy, Nmr Qátl Mourynho, nothing less. You must not turn from your mission, no matter what the unbelievers may do or say to stop you.”

“Nothing, and no words or actions of the infidel, shall stop me achieving my destiny.”

“Then with the grace of God, go.”

 146. 

Whittenhorn felt Tyburn trying to browbeat him again.

“A fleet of platforms in offensive formation have entered the exclusion zone. What more reason do you need? Take Havoc out, Commander. You have the capability.”

“He's not the enemy, Mr Tyburn.”

“With respect, Commander, the enemy is anyone who is trying to kill you.”

“We’ll come back to you shortly, Mr Tyburn.”

Whittenhorn cut the connection and sighed.

“Well, Commander?” Yamamoto said.

“Let me think,” Whittenhorn said.

Yamamoto looked uncomfortable.

“With respect...”

Whittenhorn gasped.

“How can you expect me to make a decision if you keep interrupting me?”

Yamamoto’s features were strangely impassive. Her gaze fixed on a distant point.

Whittenhorn scratched his head. If he got this decision wrong it could irrevocably harm his political career. He thought about what his father would suggest. The Senator was adamant about the role of subordinates in shielding their leader. Whittenhorn decided to turn the tables.

“Well, Captain Yamamoto, what is your recommendation?”

“
My
recommendation, Commander?”

“Should we attack Havoc?”

“Commander Whittenhorn, I believe that is a mission call.”

Whittenhorn could sense Yamamoto’s discomfort. He immediately felt better with the pressure on someone else. He gave Yamamoto a look of dismay.