To end in fire earc, p.12
To End in Fire - eARC, page 12
“And—” he looked at them squarely “—we should have been smart enough to instruct our agent in-system to abort if the Sollies had been driven off by the time he was in position to transmit the detonation command.
“It was the casualty totals that drove the Alliance to send Harrington to the Sol System in the first place. All of our intelligence indicates that she—and Elizabeth, Pritchart, and Mayhew—all knew who’d actually orchestrated it.” He grimaced. “Truth to tell, we wanted to ‘send a message.’ That’s why we sequenced the explosions the way we did. Which was angry—and incredibly stupid—of us. I think that’s pretty evident from what happened to the League. The Grand Alliance knew the Sollies hadn’t actually planted those bombs, but they didn’t really care. They knew we were using the League as a catspaw, even if they didn’t have a clue why we’d maneuvered them into conflict in the first place, and they decided to end it. That was…unfortunate enough, but one of the reasons they decided that was to free their hands to look for us. And the way we did it is likely to lend more credence than we’d like to their insistence to the rest of the galaxy that the entire war was the work of some long-standing, deeply hidden conspiracy.”
Montalván shrugged.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Benjamin. After what’s happened over the past T-year, there’s so much confusion and rumormongering in what still passes for the Solarian League that the Beowulf Strike will sink out of sight fairly quickly, at least as far as the Solly public is concerned. Oh, they’ll remember that the casualties were horrific, but it happened during a war, you know. And they’re so busy trying to put the actual war behind them that any impact the death toll might have had on Solly thinking will fade soon enough. That won’t happen in Beowulf, of course. Or in the Grand Alliance. But they already believed the worst of us.”
“And I think you may be overlooking a benefit,” Adebayo added.
“Benefit?”
Detweiler arched both eyebrows at her, and she smiled thinly.
“You don’t live here in Galton, the way Guenther and I do. Sometimes, I think, even you don’t fully appreciate the differences between here and Darius. Galton is a warrior society, Benjamin. When word hit that Beowulf’s three largest orbital habitats had been destroyed, there were celebrations all over the system. Almost as big as the ones after Oyster Bay!”
She shook her head.
“Nobody in Galton knows how Oyster Bay was actually staged, but they think they do, and they see the Beowulf Strike the same way.”
Detweiler nodded. The Oyster Bay strike on the Manticore System had, of necessity, been launched from Darius and not Galton because Galton didn’t know about the spider drive. That had sprung from R&D conducted here in Galton, but it had been developed in Darius. As a result, the Galton Space Navy had no equivalent of the graser torpedo or of the Sharks which had deployed them for the strike. But Galton’s industrial base had shipped off over a thousand of its graserhead MDMs well before Oyster Bay, and Adebayo’s files—files which were replicated on the backup command stations, not stored solely on Crick—contained the operational plan for those MDMs to be deployed by “conventional”—but highly stealthy—freighters for the attack. And there were equally official files detailing the post-strike damage assessments…and how the specialized graser platforms which had plowed the road for the Beowulf Strike had been deployed from Galton, not Darius. The MDM conversions described in the Galton files (and built and shipped off) were far less capable than the platforms which had actually been used, but since those platforms had destroyed themselves in the moment they fired, no one would ever know that.
But if they ever had the chance to capture Adebayo’s files, they would know neither strike had come from Darius.
“I understand that,” he said. “It’s just—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she told him even more firmly. “Yes, there could be a downside. I understand that. I’m just saying that there’s a hell of an upside, as well, in terms of morale and purpose here in Galton. Guenther and I couldn’t have stifled those celebrations even if we’d tried.”
“Which we didn’t,” Montalván said. “Karoline is right about the way our people here reacted, and she’d right about the long-term advantages, at least here in Galton. Are there going to be negative consequences down the road? Maybe. But we don’t know that…and there’s no point borrowing trouble before it comes on its own.” He smiled crookedly at Detweiler. “Look, let’s be blunt about this, Benjamin. The reason you came to apologize was because you think you probably brought the Alamo Contingency closer and that makes you feel guilty. Well, maybe you did, but maybe you didn’t, either. And if it turns out you did, so what? Karoline and I knew—and accepted—that possibility when we took this assignment. I won’t say I’m looking forward to it, but if it happens, it happens. I’m good with that.”
“I’m good with it, too, Benjamin.” Adebayo rose and headed toward a sidetable. “Apology accepted—and now that the formalities are over, what would you like to drink?”
Hadcliffe Residential Tower,
City of Mendel.
Planet Mesa,
Mesa System.
The young woman who answered the door was familiar to Anton Zilwicki. Not because he’d ever met her before, but because he’d been studying her from a distance lately.
She looked like her oldest brother Jack, he thought, allowing for being ten years younger and female…and for her hair color. Jack’s hair had been red; hers was blond. But she had the same blue eyes and a more feminine version of the same chin, coupled with a slim and athletic figure. Pretty, in a low-keyed sort of way.
Allowing for the scowl on her face, anyway.
“Ms. McBryde?” he said. “My name is—”
“I know who you are, Zilwicki. What do you want?”
“I was wondering if you might give me a bit of your time. There’s something I’d like to discuss with—”
“No.”
She started to close the door, but Zilwicki stopped that with a palm placed on it.
“Fine!” she snapped, reaching for something on the inside of the doorframe. Zilwicki couldn’t see it, but he was quite sure it was a control panel. Once she touched it, not even someone with his strength would be able to keep the door open. And if he tried to force his way through, the door would pin him in place, allowing her to summon the police.
He dropped his hand, and the door closed.
“I know what happened to your brothers, Ms. McBryde,” he said through the shrinking gap. The door closed completely right after “brothers.”
Three seconds later, it slid back open.
“Both of them,” he added. “I know exactly what happened to Jack, and I have a general idea of what happened to Zach.”
Her face was noticeably paler than it had been when she opened the door. The scowl was gone, too.
“How do you know?” she asked. It was almost a whisper.
“I was in touch with Jack when he died, and I’ve been able to trace where Zach went after he left Mesa—up to a point, at least.”
“Zach’s still alive?” That was said in a whisper.
“Probably,” Zilwicki said. “I can’t be positive, but he was at the last point I tracked him—which was days after he was supposed to have been killed in a so-called terrorist incident.”
She put her hand on the doorframe, leaned her head against it, and closed her eyes.
“Why should I believe you’re telling the truth? You—all of you—have been slandering us ever since you conquered Mesa. Besides, Planetary Security told us the Ballroom killed Jack. And that you and your friend Cachat were responsible for it!”
She opened her eyes, without removing her head from her hand, and gave him an accusing look.
“Victor and I were on Mesa when Jack died,” Zilwicki confirmed. “However, if you’ll think about it, the same people who said we were responsible for his death are undoubtedly the people who announced that we’d been blown up in a nuclear explosion of our own making. Which, obviously, we weren’t. So I think it could be argued that what they told you might be just a tiny bit inaccurate.”
Her accusing eyes narrowed slightly, and he shrugged.
“Apropos your other point, about people slandering the Alignment, I’ve come to believe that you’re right about that. It’s…a bit more complicated than that, though, because until recently, we didn’t think we were. Slandering you, I mean. And we had our reasons to call the people who really caused all of this the ‘Mesan Alignment.’ For that matter, we still do.”
He paused for a moment, returning her stare with a calm gaze.
“Ms. McBryde, I really do think you should talk to me.” Moving a bit slowly, so as not to alarm her, he pulled a chip from his pocket. “This is the final record we’ve found of Zach’s whereabouts. It’s also a recording of my last meeting with Jack, which happened shortly before he died.”
She stood up straight and seemed to brace herself. Her shoulders squared, her hands at her side.
“So he met with you? You’re telling me he was a traitor?”
“The Alignment would certainly think so. Not your people, but what I think—now—is a different Alignment. One that used you exactly the same way it’s used a lot of people over the years. Including the Star Empire, the Republic of Haven, and the entire Solarian League.”
“You’re a lunatic,” she said flatly.
“No, I’m not.” Zilwicki shook his head. “And Jack really did work for Alignment Security, not Planetary Security. That was just his ‘day job.’”
“Of course he worked for Alignment Security! We all knew that. But if you’d paid any attention at all to what we’ve been telling you ever since you got here, you’d know that ‘Alignment Security’s’ entire job was just to help us stay under the radar! Jack worked with Planetary Security because it gave him the tools and the access he needed for that, not for some horrible, sinister fabrication of your own sick imagination.”
“No,” Zilwicki said gently. “Oh, there was an Alignment Security that did just that, and Jack was a member of it. But that different Alignment I’m talking about used your Alignment’s ‘Security’ just the way it used all the rest of you. As a cover and a mask. Ms. McBryde, Planetary Security knew all about your Alignment. So it made perfect sense for the other Alignment to plant its people in Planetary Security under the cover of working for a harmless, idealistic organization. Especially people like Jack, who were very, very good at their jobs. In fact, he was so good that none of you—none of the people who loved him, and who he loved, because, believe me, he did love you—ever suspected the truth any more than Planetary Security did.”
She stared at him, her lips trembling, and he shook his head.
“He deceived you because that was his job. His responsibility. And to keep all of you safe, because he knew the stakes he was playing for. He didn’t want that side of his life to splash onto you, endanger you. But he did work for that other Alignment…until he truly realized where it was headed. That’s when he realized he couldn’t do that anymore. Ms. McBryde, that’s why he contacted me…and why he was the one who set off the explosion that destroyed the Androcles Tower.”
Her face was now almost as pale as the proverbial sheet. Androcles Tower’s destruction had been the first blast of the Green Pines “terrorist attack.”
“W-why would he do that?”
“Because he was one of the bravest men I ever met,” Zilwicki said quietly. “Because he’d been discovered by that other Alignment attempting to smuggle a dissident scientist off-planet, and there was no way he could escape. So instead of surrendering, which would have amounted to a death sentence anyway—those people are utterly ruthless—he chose to take a lot of them out with him. That also had the effect of covering the escape of the scientist—his friend. And my escape, as well, since I was helping him.”
Arianne was silent for a while staring at him.
“But why Androcles?” She shook her head. “I never understood that. It didn’t make any more sense than the explosion in Buenaventura Tower!”
“The explosion wasn’t in Androcles Tower; it was under it, in something called the Gamma Center.”
“Gamma Center,” she repeated, her voice almost numb, and Zilwicki nodded.
“As nearly as we’ve been able to figure out, it was the central security installation for the Align—oh, for the moment, let’s call them the ‘Malign Alignment.’” He shook his head again. It was a minimal sort of headshake. “Personally, I consider your brother a hero, and I think the whole galaxy will agree with me once the truth comes out. ‘Betraying’ the Malign Alignment is like accusing someone of betraying Satan. Good for him.”
Her shoulders sagged. But she also stepped away from the door, opening it wide.
“Come in. I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
* * *
After the chip’s recordings ended—she’d played them on her living room smartwall—Arianne’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap.
“How do I know these recordings aren’t faked? You have a reputation—I don’t know if you deserve it, but you’ve got it—of being a wizard when it comes to manipulating electronic data.”
“I do have a certain reputation,” Zilwicki acknowledged. “And, sure, I could have created every single thing I’ve just shown you. But simply creating imagery can only take you so far.”
“Explain,” she said, and he pointed at the now-dark screen.
“First, I’d have to have already had extensive recordings of your brothers. Now, admittedly, I have access to most of the planetary database at this point, so, yes. I could have gotten my hands on those recordings—now. But even the best CGI is going to contain teeny tiny flaws that can be picked out of it by sufficiently careful analysis. Especially if it was created by combining imagery from different sources. I don’t say it would be easy, but it would certainly be possible using tech right here on Mesa.
“More to the point, though, I’ve never met Zach, and I didn’t meet Jack until shortly before that recording of him was made. You’re their sister. You know their mannerisms. The way they talk, the words they’d choose, their expressions. Their body language. There’s no way I could have built a ‘Jack’ that would deceive you if you looked at it as suspiciously as I know you just looked at this one. There’d be holes, false notes.
“As for Zach, that imagery was taken from an original Traffic Control Service database. It’s still there. if you want to look at it. So are the TCS personnel who were in possession of that database when we rescued them. A database that has all of the original embedded security codes and date/time stamps, and you are entirely welcome to examine the source files yourself. Or to have anyone you care to nominate evaluate them for you.”
“Really?” It was her turn to wave at the inactive screen. “Maybe that’s all true, and maybe it isn’t. And maybe I’ll take you up on that offer to examine the source files. But whatever that says about Zach, it doesn’t say anything about the original imagery of Jack.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m afraid you’ll just have to take my word for that one, because I recorded it after Jack initially approached us.”
“Approached you where?”
“At a diner in a seccy district. I was a waiter there. I was there with—ah, my partner—”
“Why don’t you just name him Victor Cachat, so we can skip the bullshit? You think I haven’t seen the program that aired on that Manticoran so-called ‘news discussion show’? And if you studied me as intensively as you’re suggesting, then you know I was one of CEO Ward’s senior scientific advisors to the old General Board. You think I didn’t have a pretty damned high security clearance?”
“Yes, Victor. We were here to investigate Manpower when Jack spotted me on an intercepted bit of security footage and approached us.”
She closed her eyes again. Then she shook her head. It was a sharp, abrupt gesture, as if she were trying to shake water out of her hair. Or mud.
“All right,” she said. “I figure you wouldn’t offer me the opportunity to look at the original data files if they wouldn’t tell me what you’re saying they would. And you’re right about individual mannerisms, too. There’s not enough of Zach for me to recognize any of his personal quirks, but that’s Jack. I recognize him. I couldn’t tell you exactly how, but I do. So I believe you didn’t fake any of it. Still…”
She looked away. She sat gazing at the window that covered an entire wall of the apartment and looked out over the city, but Zilwicki didn’t think she was actually looking at anything. Her eyes were tearing up.
She sat that way for several seconds. And then, abruptly, she reached up, wiped her face, and looked at Zilwicki.
“What about Zach? From what I gather you’re saying, he’s still loyal to—” She waved her hand in an angry gesture. “Whoever those fucking people are.”
Zilwicki opened his mouth, but before he could reply—
“And don’t call them ‘the Alignment’!” Her tone was as angry as the gesture had been. “The Alignment—the real one—is what I belong to.”
He spread his hands.
“Ms. McBryde—”
“Call me Arianne. For this, ‘Ms. McBryde’ is idiotic.”
“Arianne. Look, I myself have come to the conclusion that we’re dealing with two different ‘Alignments’ here. So have a number of other people.”
“Who?”
“Victor Cachat, for one. Catherine Montaigne, for another. She’s now the effective head of Manticore’s Liberal Party. Then there’s Torch’s Queen Berry.”
“Well, sure.” Arianne sniffed. “Cachat’s your partner, Montaigne’s your girlfriend, and Queen Berry’s your daughter. You’re even better connected than I am.”
Zilwicki put his hands back on his chair’s armrests and smiled.
“It’s not just Berry. Pretty much the entire government of Torch—the top echelons, anyway—have come to the same conclusion. Web Du Havel, General Palane, and Jeremy X all have.”
