Operation Hammerhead - 15. Revelations

Revelations

Parliament Station

Jeff Mason and Marion Scott filed into Parliament Station's Bean Stalk. The space elevator car was big and could easily move a hundred people from high orbit to the planet surface in a matter of a few minutes. The waiting crowd was not large, so only a quarter of the seats were taken.

A disembodied voice directed bored travelers to take their seats, secure their belongings and fasten their safety harness.

Jeff followed Marion to an empty row of seats, sat beside her and packed his bag in the compartment beneath the seat. Marion was doing the same. She looked around to see if they were being observed and pulled something out of her purse.

She whispered, "Here take this and put it on."

She pulled out an e-book reader, opened a novel and said, "Sorry, I forgot this. Our cover is a married couple, and we have to sweat every detail."

Jeff discretely slipped the ring on his finger and asked, "I was thinking about picking up a present for the crew."

Marion looked up from her novel and said, "What?"

Jeff said, "We've got all the equipment necessary to read network feeds. I thought I would buy a basic license and a descrambler, so we can decrypt the entertainment channels."

Marion nodded. “The boys will like that, but I’m not sure the Colonel will. He’s not big on distractions, and the boys are… boys. If you’re going to do it, just do it.”

Jeff said, “Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?”

“Something like that.”

The passengers in the car finally finished settling in and the big hatch closed. Mason felt his ears pop as the pod pressurized, and suddenly, he felt the sensation of falling.

The blackness of space was suddenly outside the pod, despite the best efforts of Parliament's anemic primary star. The blue-gray mass of the planet Parliament spread out below them, complete with sweeping weather fronts in the far North with blowing methane snow that sparkled on the horizon. Sirius was a large, brilliant star that easily dominated the local star field.

Mason was glad that he had snapped the safety harness. There was no gravity, and he knew that he would have been flat against the roof enduring the full rigors of 5 G's of acceleration.

Marion barely looked up from her e-book reader. She smiled at Mason's obvious enthusiasm for the experience.

It took only a few minutes, but the experience was spectacular. Falling toward a planet at a kilometer per second on a space elevator was pretty heady stuff.

With every kilometer, more of the planet was revealed: more shimmering lakes of methane, more ice flats, more hills, mountains and weathered craters. Finally, the gleaming domes of Parliament itself came into view.

The city that was the administrative center of the Alliance first appeared like tiny bubbles reflecting sunlight in rainbow sparkles. As the pod got closer to the city, the domes multiplied and grew larger, and the buildings underneath grew larger.

As the pod was on final approach to the city, the G-forces of the planet's gravity and the pod's deceleration made Mason's stomach object. He was glad that he had a margarita in the lounge on the space station.

Before he was sure that all of his parts were in one place, the pod was coming to a stop.

Marion said, "Welcome to Parliament Spaceport." just before the automated voice. "Let's go. We've got to meet our contact."

Mason carried his small case and followed Marion to the Spaceports street level, where a number of cabs were waiting. She picked one out and walked right to it.

The Taxi driver looked up from his e-book reader, munching on a pretzel, and said, "Where are you kids headed?"

Marion replied, "I think we'll stay at the Hilton. No… the Claremont this time."

The grizzled old cabby flipped the occupied sign on and said, "Hop in. It's your dime."

When they were inside and moving, the cabby said, "How are you doing, Marion?"

She said, "I've been worse, Tully. You’ve got our packages?"

Tully said, "Yeah. They're in the trunk; one for both of you. Pick them up when I drop you off."

Marion said, "Good. Thanks, Tully."

Tully shrugged and asked, "Are you going to need me for your extraction?"

Marion said, "I don't think so, but it couldn't hurt to have you on the side, though."

Tulley nodded. He drove on quietly for a few minutes and pulled up at the Hotel Claremont.

He dutifully got out, opened the trunk, and handed the two agents their gear from the trunk. He handed Marion his card and said, "Give me a call if you need wheels. You kids have fun."

Task Force Hammerhead

Saratoga

Sick Bay

Danny and Tom sat nervously in the waiting room of the Sick Bay. Tom checked his computer pad every thirty seconds, and Danny’s feet wouldn’t stay still.

Danny asked, “Nervous?”

Tom said, “No. Are you?”

Danny shook his head and said, “No. I mean, yes. We are such liars.”

Tom laughed and said, “What is there to be nervous about? We’re having nanobots install a microcomputer in our brain stems. What could go wrong?”

“Statistically…”

Tom interrupted, “Yeah, yeah. Statistically, you are more likely to grow horns and become a goat than have a problem with the implant.”

Danny looked thoughtful for a moment and said, “You know, we are a little different. I’m just wondering…”

Tom shrugged and said, “I’m certain if the Doc thought that there might be a problem, she would have told us.”

Dr. May entered the room carrying a tray with two hypo-sprays and wearing a smirk. She set the tray down and asked, “Problem with what?”

Danny asked, “Well, you know we are a little different.”

Doctor May said, “Holloway has had his implant for months, and the three of you are pretty much clones. You may have some, shall we say, custom programming, but your basic equipment package is factory standard. I don’t foresee any problems. Are you ready?”

Tom and Danny nodded, and Dr. May picked up one of the hypo-sprays.

As she gave Tom his injection, she said, “It has a mixture of the implant nanotech and a mild sedative. I want you to both go hit your rack and your implant will be online when you wake up.”

She gave Danny his injection and he said, “Yes, Mam.”

The pair left sick bay, went to their quarters and were asleep almost as soon as they hit their racks.

Parliament

Hotel Claremont

Marion breezed through check in. Everything had been arranged.

The room was actually a suite with a living room, kitchenette, bedroom and balcony. Jeff and Marion put their luggage by the kitchen table. Minutes after their arrival, a bellhop knocked on the door with a bottle of Champaign on ice.

The young man at the door grinned and said, “Compliments of the house. Anything we can do to make your Honeymoon more enjoyable, just ask.”

Jeff took the bottle, thanked him and closed the door.

As he parked the bottle in the kitchen, Marion began to set up the equipment. Jeff asked, “How can I help?”

Marion pulled her purse up from the floor, parked it on the table and said, “Pour me a glass and then hand me one of the power modules from your case.”

Jeff popped the cork and poured two glasses. He handed one of the glasses to Marion and toasted, “To us.”

Marion grinned and sipped the Champaign.

Jeff reached into the case he had been carrying and retrieved one of the power modules. It was small and heavy, so he carefully handed it to her.

Marion took it, set it on the table, and then pulled a taser out of her purse. She made a face and zapped herself on the left arm. She jerked and twisted as the voltage assaulted her nervous system.

Jeff jumped up and grabbed her before she fell out of her chair and said, “Marion, what the hell?”

As she regained her composure, she pointed to a small scar in her forearm and said, “We have a lot more in common than you thought, Jeff.”

Jeff's stomach squirmed. “You’ve got an implant?”

She nodded and said, “But it’s not by the same people that gave you yours. It’ll take about five minutes for it to reset, so I’ve got to be quick. Jeff, I’m sorry. They’ve got my daughter.”

Jeff was completely confused. “What? Who? Why?”

Marion said, “It’s the Bishop, and it is really complicated, Jeff. Look up his bio. It will help you understand what this is about. They created all of this - the boys, the movement, everything. They put you all together, and they are going to blame you for a horrible terrorist attack.”

She continued, “They got me because they knew that you would trust me. The mission here on Parliament is all just a ruse. It will generate a lot of press. There’s a reason why the Argus doesn’t have a network feed. They don’t want you guys watching the news. You’ll see the Bishop and his party mouthpieces on the talk shows yapping about how dangerous the genetically engineered supermen are. Then they are going to set us all up to take the blame for a terrible attack.”

The pieces began coming together for Jeff. “Ok. I’m beginning to understand. We’ve been used as scapegoats before. We’re used to it. My question is what do we do about it?”

Marion said, “When we’re done here at Parliament, we’re going to pick up an old warship from the Aramus Depot. Then we’re going to pick up the rest of our people. There is a worm in the warship's computer systems. It’s going to launch a kinetic attack on Thrace.”

Jeff almost shouted, “Thrace? Why Thrace?”

Marion said, “Because it’s close. Just a few jumps. It is a heavily populated core world, and it is key to moderate party’s coalition in Parliament. If Thrace gets devastated, the coalition will collapse and there will be a new government; one decidedly unfriendly to us.”

Marion rubbed her arm and said, “You have to find the worm and disable it. Then go to New Caledonia yards, seize a colony ship and get our people out to the rim.”

Jeff said, “There hasn’t been a new colony since the war began.”

Marion said, “That’s true, but there are at least a dozen Conestoga class colony ships in high orbit there waiting for the end of the moratorium on new colonies.”

Jeff tried to speak, but Marion cut him off. “I’m running out of time. If we’re blown, we die. Understand?”

Jeff nodded.

Marion said, “Good. When you get back to the Argus, remember Bay 3, locker 44. There’s a data crystal hidden in the tool box with all the information that you will need. When the rest get together, go to Gary and Jerry. Tell them what I told you and make them understand. If we blow this, they wipe us out to the last toddler. No pressure, but all of our fates are in your hands. Wait until Beck transfers off and connect the network feed. Then you’ll all see what they have been hiding.”

Marion put her finger to her lips and said, “It’s a shame about that cracked power cell. You’ll have to pick up another one while you are out.”

Jeff stood up, quickly went to the restroom, closed the door and threw up. Some great leader I’m going to be. We are well and truly screwed.

Task Force Hammerhead

Fleet Flagship Repulse

Admiral Bassett and his Chief of Staff Captain Hutchins stood at a console inside a large compartment called “the Tank”. Repulse and all the newer capital ships were designed and built to be the flagships of fleets, and “the Tank” was a critical part of that. It was a large holographic map room that allowed fleet officers to plan operations and run simulations.

Above them was the 700 light year span of the Cygnus arm, with occupied star systems marked in an angry red color along the back side of the spiral arm. In front of the occupied star systems was the bright leading edge of the spiral arm: a complex of stellar nurseries and nebulae that gave the spiral arm its brightness. It included several hyper-giant stars like Eta Carina, supernova remnants, black holes and numerous OB associations: groupings of young hot O and B class supergiant stars. The whole area was shaded in yellow as it was so radioactive that no Alliance ship could possibly transit that space. It stood as a solid barrier between the fringe and the rest of the galaxy.

The only blue or friendly base was Omicron Ceti, commanding a corridor 3 to 10 light years wide by two hundred and sixty light years long between the inferno of stellar radiation of young stars on the spiral arm and the deadly radiation of degenerate stars toward the core. From Omicron Ceti toward the galactic core were the Twelve Sisters: another high radiation zone. The Twelve Sisters were relative young and energetic pulsars, the remnants of a past generation of hot young stars that had lived bright and brilliant but short lives and then exploded between sixty and a hundred million years ago. Without warning, and with startling regularity, the pulsars would emit storms of deadly radiation. The whole area was another huge radiation zone.

That left Omicron Ceti as a natural choke point. The Alliance fleet had fought six major and scores of minor actions in the Omicron Ceti corridor, or better known to the fleet: “the Slot”. They had managed to fight the enemy to a standstill there. In fact, since a major victory there earlier in the war, the aliens had not seriously attempted to take the system. No one was really sure why. Conventional wisdom held that they wouldn’t try again until they were sure that they could take it.

Bassett looked at the computer pad he had in his hand and up at the holographic star display. He said, “OK, Chris. Let’s step though the plan. First we stop off at the globular cluster GC9882 to replenish our ships, fill up our tanks and get bunkers of our tankers full.”

His Chief of Staff said, “Looks like we’re five days away from our pre-positioned supplies, then 48 hours to get everything squared away. Assuming the automated freighters and gas miners are there.”

Bassett sighed and said, “They had better be there or this will be the shortest offensive in history. Once we’re done at GC9882, we are practically in the war zone.”

Captain Hutchins said, indicating a lonely red dwarf on the very edge of the spiral arm, “I think that our first objective should be the Sandage Research Station. StarCOMM did a remote diagnostic on their communications node just before we left, and it will give us a chance to coordinate with the rest of the fleet at Omicron Ceti.”

Bassett nodded and asked, “What was it this far out?”

Hutchins replied, “It’s a Ministry of Science research station. It was an observatory used to study other galaxies and when the invasion arrived, they evacuated it. All the gear is still there and sensors left in the system have detected no enemy presence.”

Bassett laughed and said, “I can see why they might have overlooked it. The primary is a red dwarf.”

Chris worked the controls and zoomed in on the area of space surrounding Stonegarden and said, “The key is Stonegarden. It has to be. The entire planet is metal for all practical purposes. It’s why we were there in the first place. It has to be the key to their strategic resources.”

Bassett said, “I concur. Tanaka, Stewart, and I are all in agreement: that is where we need to hit them first.”

The Admiral pointed to a circle with a dot fifty light years away from Stonegarden and on the trailing edge of the spiral arm and said, “Do you think that planetary nebula will be a decent staging area for us?”

“According to the survey info dated about 30 years ago, the gas density and energy budget are just about perfect. The star inside is a white dwarf and once inside the bubble, the gas density goes way down. We can hide in there and no one can see us unless they are right on top of us. Say ten light minutes. The freighters drop their containers and give it 36 hours, our prefabricated battle station is in place. We’ll then be able to jump in and out, make our strikes, and come back to rearm and repair damage.”

Bassett said, “OK. That’s the plan. What could go wrong?”

“The fleet is detected and hit by a large enough force before the battle station is operational.”

“OK. That’s bad but how likely is it to happen?”

Hutchins said, “Not very; we’re making moves the enemy has never seen. They’ve never seen us use a planetary nebula to hide a base. They’ve never seen us out flank them and appear in their rear areas in force.”

Bassett said, “Once we start putting the station together, we’re committed. We can’t cut and run, and we have to hold the system.”

Hutchins said, “It all depends on the correlation of forces.”

Bassett walked around the display and looked at it from several angles. “Chris, did you ever box?”

Hutchins said, “No, sir. My martial art was that Aikido stuff the Academy was teaching.”

“We need to look at this like a boxer fighting a bigger, stronger opponent. We have to hit hard and move fast, and whatever we do: we can’t get pinned in a corner and pounded.”

Free Trader Argus

Parking Orbit above Parliament

Sebastian Beck was having that same old nightmare again. It always took him back to his war. A little more than twenty years prior, a cabal of rouge corporations rebelled against Alliance authority. He was a twenty-year-old Marine platoon leader. What the history books called the Corporate Wars was an ugly little war.

The Corporate Wars were a bloody, hard fought affair that lasted three and a half years, and Beck had been there from day one. His dream always took him back to the final assault on MilTech’s headquarters complex on Pelenor.

The Pelenor system was littered by the debris of the largest naval battle in Alliance history to date. The fleet had slugged it out with the rebels for over a week before they had cleared the space above the planet enough to begin the assault.

The transport carrying the 22^nd Battalion was the Normandy. She and her four sisters brought the 3^rd Regiment into orbit and began a 2-hour bombardment from orbit to smash as much of the planetary defenses as they could find. When the bombardment ended, the assault shuttles immediately began the drop. Even with an escort of fighters and fire support, four assault shuttles were destroyed and another eight were so badly damaged that once they were down, they would never take off again.

Beck’s platoon was lucky. He got down with all five of his squads, a headquarters detachment and a heavy weapons section. That was the last thing that went right all day. Due to heavy fire on the drop, they were 20 kilometers off target. Enemy jamming snarled communications, and they couldn’t reach Battalion HQ. To top it all off, they had landed less than a kilometer from an enemy artillery battery under heavy concealment and were forced to assault it almost as soon as they were dirt side.

What they did not know at the time was that Beck’s Bobcats had landed inside the enemy perimeter. Their quick assault and destruction of the artillery battery actually punched a hole in the rebel lines. The enemy counter-attack came in battalion strength and was supported by a heavy artillery concentration.

The rebels were savage. They were cyborgs: genetically modified humans that were extensively modified with implants, armor and other enhancement. They had no fear, and you had to blow them to pieces to keep them down. Even with state-of-the-art Marine body armor and with the best firepower available, it was a horror show.

What kept coming back to Beck in his worst nightmares was one of the last assaults on their position. One of the cyborgs was shot up, but it wasn’t dead. He turned it over, and he could see the humanity in its face. Something was broken inside it. With tears in its eyes, it said, “Please God, kill me.”

Beck and his men fought from the captured enemy fortifications for three days. At the end of the third day, Beck had lost almost half of his men, and they were low on everything when they were finally relieved by Captain Keilor and the rest of the company.

After the battle, Beck had received an Alliance Cross: the second-highest decoration a marine can win. Over drinks, Beck, Keilor and many others swore an oath: they would never again allow insane, amoral men to create such monsters. They had worked for years to create a network as a means to accomplish that mission.

When Beck awoke, drenched in sweat, he saw that he had a message pending.

He got out of bed, got a drink of cold water and sat down at his terminal.

RESET WARNING: at time 14:22 local Implant #2234 was reset. Fault 22: overload.

Beck issued a command: “Computer, establish an encrypted link to the Bishop.”

There was a short pause and Bishop Keilor’s face appeared on his screen, “What’s up Seb?”

“Maybe trouble, maybe nothing, but I thought you needed to know. Marion’s implant reset itself. It looks like she took a good shock when she was putting together the gear to hack the wireless part of Parliament’s Security network.”

The Bishop frowned and said, “Marion may be trying to be entirely too clever for her own good. What is their status?”

Beck replied, “The Mason kid went out and bought a new power cell, some clothes and a few other items. Marion has her system up and is reading the security network, and the rest of the teams are in place and ready to go.”

The Bishop sighed. “Things are so close now, Seb. I think Marion has served her purpose. When this is over, she joins her family.”

Beck said, “I’ll set it up. See you in orbit.”

Task Force Hammerhead

Saratoga

Junior Officers Quarters

Tom slept a deep and dreamless sleep. As usual, he woke a little before his alarm, but to a big surprise.

ThoughSpeed™ Neural Interface Processor: Begin Configuration(y/n)?

Tom provided his name, rank, ship, section, passwords and numerous other settings as the implant's configuration routine ran. Eventually, it got to prompt that read:

Establish connections now(y/n)?

He gave his permission, and then something bizarre began. Tom could see a graphical representation of his implant interrogating first his Computer Pad and then out to the ship's systems. It was happening with a blur when two things happened that surprised him: first was his message queue from his computer pad. It was “in his head” in living color.

The second big surprise was the lists of “wired” people aboard. They were represented by avatars: the sleeping ones were black and white, and those who were awake were in full color. He was prompted that he could send a message to any one of those

He noticed that the still sleeping Danny was in black and white, with a small tick by his icon. When he looked at it, the notice said implant not configured.

Tom thought that this was all sorts of strange, but it had interesting possibilities. He got out of his bunk and headed off to the showers to beat the crowd while checking his messages and daily schedule. He also found that he could compose replies to messages and create new ones without his Pad. As he went through his morning routine, he noticed that Danny’s avatar was awake and presumably configuring his implant.

Tom was shaving when he found out that he could see the ship's bridge status board and even primary flight controls status boards. Suddenly, he got his first message:

Sokolsky to Rivers: Is this cool or what?