15

  Rico

  Rico looked back at Isaac. She could see the anger and betrayal in his eyes. She was tempted to feel the same. But she couldn’t believe Haeri would sell them out like this. Not after everything he had said at Ghost’s. But what if the third-party had compromised his position? What if he were under duress?

  Two more drones approached, settling into a guard position.

  “Able, do you copy?” Rico said softly. “Able, are you there?”

  There was still no reply.

  “General? Are you on the comm?”

  Nothing. Damn it.

  “Special Officer Rodriguez, I repeat,” General Haeri said again. “Put your hands over your head and wait for collection. Don’t make me utilize additional force.”

  Rico put her hands up, folding them on top of her head. Bennett and Isaac did the same. The drones continued to hover around them as the transport—a standard APC, wide and low-slung, with large wheels and a heavily armored shell—neared, stopping along one of the nearby paths. It had likely come from the CSF barracks beneath the city, carried up from below on a large industrial lift. It was an odd response to the emergency. The APC was slow and not especially maneuverable.

  A squad of soldiers climbed out. They were all dressed in combat armor and carrying plasma rifles, the dark visors of their helmets hiding their faces.

  “A little overdressed?” Rico said as they approached.

  They didn’t speak as they grabbed her hands, pulling them down behind her back and binding them. They did the same to Bennett and Isaac.

  “Sergeant, take them back to the barracks, and then transport them to CSF HQ,” General Haeri ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied. He put his hand on Rico’s back. “Let’s go.”

  Rico didn’t resist. Not that she could have if she wanted to. Her hands were literally tied. She glanced over at Isaac, her eyes apologetic.

  “This isn’t your fault,” Isaac said. “You did your best.”

  “It wasn’t good enough,” she replied softly.

  The Centurion Marines led them to the ramp at the back of the APC. Another squad was already waiting inside. They stood up as Rico, Bennett and Isaac ascended the ramp into the vehicle.

  “Take a seat,” the sergeant said. Rico sat with Isaac beside her and Bennett across from them. The Marines boarded the APC, and the sergeant hit the control for the ramp. It slammed closed with a sharp clang.

  The sergeant grabbed his helmet, lifting it off his head. Rico smiled as his face became visible.

  “I know you,” she said.

  He smiled back. “I know you too.” He raised his hand to his neck, rubbing at it. “It’s still sore.” He looked up toward the cockpit. “Able, get us the hell out of here.”

  Rico turned her head in time to see Able lean out past the driver’s seat, her face appearing through the open door to the APC’s cockpit.

  “On it. Good to see you again, Rico.”

  “Good to see you too,” Rico replied. The other Marines were taking off their helmets. She recognized the other Rodriguez and a few of the others who had been sitting outside the Reclamation Center. “Damn good to see all of you.” She shifted in her seat, showing her bound hands. “I don’t suppose you can get these off us?”

  “Absolutely,” the sergeant replied. “My name’s Drake, by the way. Former Centurion Space Force Captain Isaiah Drake. That’s Jorge, Spot, Lucius, and of course you already know Jesse.”

  The other Rodriguez clone smiled. “Hiya, sis.”

  Jorge crossed the APC, kneeling in front of her. He was probably the youngest of the group. Dark hair, dark skin and a bright smile. He was a clone too, but she didn’t know what model. He tapped on the bracelets, entering the code to unlock them. They fell off her wrists into his waiting hand.

  “Thanks,” Rico said.

  “De nada,” he replied, repeating the process for Bennett and Isaac.

  “You’re all former Marines?” Isaac asked.

  “Not Lucius there,” Drake said, pointing to another fresh-faced soldier. “He’s still in the Academy. Or was until this morning.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I do,” Rico said. “Part of it, at least. Haeri had you in position in case something went wrong.”

  “That’s right,” Drake replied.

  “When the assassins showed up and then the drones, you were already in position in the barracks with Able. You used the drones to take out the enemy combatants, and then you took over for the real APC crew. Able didn’t answer my hail because she was otherwise occupied.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Able said, listening in to the conversation from the front. “Haeri was worried there was another mole in the organization.”

  “Which organization? CSF? PCC? The Trust?”

  “None of the above. Just the Organization.”

  “I’m totally confused,” Isaac said. “Why was I being held like a prisoner? Why the complicated escape?”

  “Because it’s complicated,” Able said.

  It was complicated, but Rico was starting to understand. “The Organization predates Proxima, doesn’t it?”

  “It does. It predates the trife invasion completely, by a long time.”

  “Rico,” Isaac said. “Can you start over and explain it as dumbed-down as possible?”

  “I’ve got a name you might recognize,” Able said. “Doctor Riley Valentine. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  Isaac’s face paled as he nodded. “She worked at the lab where I was stationed. Where I was put into hibernation. She was studying the Relyeh. And the Axon.”

  “She was a member of the Organization. We stepped up our recruitment efforts when the trife arrived.”

  “And Haeri is a member too, then?” Rico asked.

  “Correct. So are you, now, like it or not. The Organization is committed to protecting humankind. Beyond politics, beyond laws, beyond morals, if it comes to that. No holds barred. No bullshit. It’s a creed we hold sacred. You can’t have a division in something as important as defending our species against alien threats.”

  “So this mole,” Rico said. “Any idea who or what it is?”

  “It could be a khoron,” Isaac said. “Or an Axon.”

  “Or just a human who doesn’t get it,” Rico added.

  “We don’t know. This was an Organization operation, which means they infiltrated our ranks. As soon as we figure out who it is, they’re dead space. No questions asked. But right now, we’ve got bigger problems.”

  “What kind of problems?” Isaac asked.

  Rico turned to face him. “There’s a Relyeh warship headed for Earth. We think it intends to finish the invasion.”

  “One starship?” Isaac said. “You have ships. Can’t you stop it? Shoot it down or something?”

  “No. For one thing, it’s moving over a hundred times the speed of light. Even if it slows down as it approaches, that’s still way faster than anything our weapons can target.”

  “How can anything move that fast?” Isaac asked. “Wouldn’t it crash into a star or something? The impact at that speed…”

  “You’ve got some science in you,” Able said. “They must have some kind of tech to keep them from colliding with anything.”

  “They’d have to, wouldn’t they?” Spot said. She was a small woman of Asian descent, with short black hair and a delicate face. “To cross thousands of light years.”

  “For another thing,” Rico continued, “it’s big.”

  “How big?” Isaac asked.

  “Big enough not to be able to blast it out of space even if we could hit it.”

  “So we’re going back to Earth to do what? Warn them about a ship the more advanced human civilization can’t stop?”

  “Essentially.”

  “How is that going to help?”

  Rico opened her mouth to answer. Nothing came out. She closed it again, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, but Hayden’s always managed to come through, and the situation is pretty desperate.”

  “How long until the Relyeh ship arrives?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “It took a week to get from Earth to Proxima. I imagine the round trip is the same?”

  “Normally it would be, but Haeri outfitted our ship’s computer with an experimental algorithm that will hopefully help jump us in closer to Earth.”

  “I don’t like the words experimental and hopefully,” Isaac replied.

  “There’s a lot not to like about the situation,” Rico agreed. “But it is what it is. Complaining won’t help. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood and went to the APC’s cockpit. Looking through the forward viewshield, she could see they were out of Metro and passing through the large vehicle access corridor that led directly to the main hangar.

  Able glanced over at her. “Not what you were expecting, is it?” she asked.

  “I never expect things to go according to plan,” Rico replied. “But this is a little more outside the norm than usual. What about Haeri?”

  “He can take care of himself. And if he can’t, the Organization will pick him up.”

  “Haeri said it was better to stay ignorant, but I want to know more about the Organization. ”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Once we leave Proxima, we can’t come back. You, me, the group back there. We’ve got a new role to play.”

  “Where did you pick them up? Drake and his team?”

  “The Reclamation Center. Good Centurions who made bad choices, either during or after their tours. We didn’t pick any of them quickly, except maybe Lucius. He’s Drake’s brother, in case you didn’t realize. Anyway, the Organization’s been waiting for this for years.”

  “What? You knew the Relyeh were coming?”

  “We knew they would come. We’ve been preparing.”

  “How do you know it will be enough?”

  “We don’t. Not at all. Heck, if I were putting money on it, I wouldn’t bet on us.”

  Rico shook her head. “That’s some vote of confidence.”

  “We’ve been behind since day one. Survival means beating the odds.”

  “Well, if anyone has a knack for beating the odds, it’s Sheriff Duke.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  Able reached forward to tap on one of the control screens. Rico looked out the viewshield again. The APC was rolling into the main hangar. So far, everything was normal. Techs moved around the expansive deck, bringing supplies and tools to the dozen or so starships still kept in the Dove. They were all older models, more boxy and rough than the newer craft. Thirty meters long and nearly ten meters tall, with stubbed wings for atmospheric flight control and an assortment of plasma cannons mounted both beneath the wings and over the fuselage. There was no visible cockpit. It was embedded deep inside the craft behind the armor plating, the pilot able to use both advanced sensors and dozens of external cameras to fly by. Centurions called the model Buses because these days they were used solely for transporting VIPs from one city to another.

  It was strange to Rico to observe the complete non-reaction to the chaos she had been in the middle of only minutes earlier. The entire ship should have been on lockdown while Centurion forces ensured there was no threat to the government. They had fired a rocket inside Metro!

  But there was nothing. It was business as usual. Would the incident even make it to the evening news?

  She had a feeling it wouldn’t. Powerful players wanted to keep the whole thing quiet. How deep did the veins of secrecy, loyalty and history run?

  She knew where they originated. Before the trife came. Before Earth was lost. Before the generation ships landed here and founded a new human civilization.

  “We can talk more about the Organization once we’re off the planet,” Able said.

  The APC crossed the hangar, heading for one of the Buses. The back ramp of the ship was already open and extended, waiting to receive the vehicle into its hold.

  “So that’s it? They’re just going to let us leave?”

  “I don’t know if let is the right word,” Able replied. “But we are leaving. We glitched the system. We’ve got about forty-five seconds left before the fun starts again.”

  “Glitched the system?”

  Able smiled. “A ghost APC is headed back to a barracks full of sleeping Centurions. I told you, we’ve been preparing for a long time. And we’re just getting started.”

  16

  Rico

  “Rico, you’re flying,” Able said as the APC stopped inside the dropship. The side hatch opened and she headed for it.“You better get this thing off the deck and out of CSF targeting range in the next forty-five seconds or we’re toast.”

  Rico was right behind her. “They’re going to try to shoot us down?” she asked, realizing she should have expected as much.

  “We’ve already broken about fifty laws.”

  Rico jumped out of the vehicle behind Able, turning left and sprinting toward the stairs at the front of the hold. Able went the other direction, hitting the controls to close the rear ramp.

  Rico glanced back when she reached the steps. Isaac was out of the APC and following her closely. She scaled the stairs to the main deck, hurrying past the seats there to the bridge at the center of the ship. She tapped the control pad to open the hatch and dropped into the pilot’s seat, quickly activating the controls. Her primary training was as a pilot, and she had served with her Bennett on Earth as his squad’s drone operator. In truth, flying the smaller recon drones in gravity with a pair of joysticks and a low-res screen was much more challenging than steering a big spacecraft through the black.

  The Bus began to hum slightly as the reactor came online.

  Thirty-five seconds.

  The door to the bridge slid aside. Isaac entered, followed by Able.

  “You sit there,” Able said, guiding him to the station to the back and left of Rico. The older woman took the command station, sitting down and strapping in. “Rico, whenever you’re ready.”

  “Do we need to call it in?” Rico asked.

  “Only if you want them to try to stop us sooner.”

  Rico smirked. “The outer blast doors are closed.”

  “Already handled.”

  The klaxons around them started flashing, and a loud clang sounded as the doors began to part, Proxima’s outer atmosphere pouring in. It was breathable but harsh, and a stiff wind immediately started blowing through the hangar. The techs below scrambled, unaccustomed to the doors opening without advanced notice.

  Twenty-five seconds.

  “Capricorn, this is Flight Control. We’re registering unauthorized power up. Power down immediately. I repeat, power down immediately.”

  Rico glanced back at Able, who smiled mischievously. “Like that’s going to happen.”

  The blast doors continued to part. Rico started increasing the throttle, preparing the ship for takeoff.

  “Capricorn, you will comply immediately,” Control said.

  “Sorry, Control,” Rico replied. “I’ve got a date, and I’m already late.”

  “Time’s running out,” Isaac said, pointing up at the displays.

  Fifteen seconds.

  Rico glanced over to their left. Another military APC rolled into the hangar, and armored Centurions began jumping out, raising their rifles toward the Bus.

  “C’mon Rico, time to go!” Able shouted.

  Rico looked at the blast doors. They weren’t open all the way.

  But they were open far enough.

  “Hold on.”

  She engaged the main thrusters at full throttle, sending the ship lurching forward, its skids still on the deck. They scraped along the floor as the Centurions started shooting, sending plasma bolts into the armor. Rico adjusted the vectoring thrusters, pushing the craft off the deck as it neared the blast doors.

  “We’re going to hit!” Isaac shouted.

  “Negative,” Rico replied. She adjusted the vectoring again, and the left wing tipped up higher than the right. Not too much. Not too little. They squeezed through the gap between the doors with centimeters to spare, rocketing out and up.

  “Nice flying,” Able said, her voice finally calm.

  “I’m not done yet,” Rico replied. She was a former Centurion. She understood how planetary defense worked.

  Five seconds.

  Not enough time to get clear of the atmosphere. That was okay.

  They weren’t going to outfly her.

  The Capricorn continued to ascend, shooting toward the dark purple sky. Marks appeared on the primary display, a warning that a targeting system was searching for a lock. Green shapes appeared on the grid displayed directly behind the starship’s controls, the computer picking up incoming friendlies approaching from the CSF base to the north.

  Except they wouldn’t be so friendly when they arrived.

  Rico banked south, still climbing. The edges of the primary display turned red, and then the screen split, showing the view from the rear camera. Two flashes triggered from the planet’s surface behind the domes of Praeton—projectiles fired from ground-based launchers. They shot toward the Capricorn in a hurry, giving Rico only seconds to react.

  It was more than enough.

  She cut the throttle and rolled the dropship over, pushing heavy Gs as the starship soared back toward the surface. The missiles zipped past, missing their target by less than a meter. They detonated an instant later when the ground control knew they had missed.

  Rico hit the thrusters again, swooping down and picking up speed. The Centurion fighters closed in, prepared to fire projectiles of their own. The targeting warning resumed, the tracking systems attempting to lock on them once more.

  “We’re going in the wrong direction,” Isaac said.

  “We’re going exactly where I want to go,” Rico replied.

  The Bus banked and started climbing, turning into the oncoming fighters. Rico’s eyes narrowed as she activated the weapons systems, bringing plasma cannons online.

  “Rico, you aren’t authorized to use force,” Able said.