Out of the black, p.33
Out of the Black, page 33
"I've got enough teramite here to turn this place into a dust cloud," said Hutch. "But my detonator is damaged. I can't trigger the explosion."
He paused.
"At least not remotely."
"Explain," said Hunter, not taking her eyes off the corridor. There was another shadow there. No, two shadows.
Three.
"Teramite is unstable. I can detonate it with a powerful enough impact. Like a shotgun blast."
"Does your shotgun have enough range to detonate the explosives without taking us with it?"
"Nope."
"What about Grieve's sniper rifle?" asked Hobson.
"We're in a maze of corridors," said Hunter, adjusting her grip on the pistol. "There's no way to do this from a safe distance, is there Hutch?"
"No. There's not."
"All right then," she said, feeling remarkably calm. "Hutch, take my position. Give me the shotgun. I'll bring this place down once you're both clear."
Again, she knew the response before it was said aloud.
"No," said Hutch. "You got us this far, you need to take us the rest of the way. This is where I get off the crazy train."
Hobson tried to say something, but Hutch cut him off.
"This isn't a debate," he said calmly, almost kindly. Almost. Hutch was still Hutch, after all. "I've done some bad shit in my life and I've done some good shit. Most of the good shit has been since these assholes came to Earth and I'm not proud of that fact. Of the fact that it took this to make me into something I could be proud of. So fuck these aliens. I'm going out, but they're coming with me. I can stop this place right here from taking any more lives and all I have to do is die. Not a bad trade."
The feeling struck close to home for Hunter and she felt a lump in her throat.
Hutch was a pain in the ass and they had only seen eye to eye about a third of time, but they had managed to forge a mutual respect and work together for the common good. It was more than many people could say and it was all one could ask for in the times they faced. It had saved many lives, many times over, including their own.
Except for today.
Not trusting herself to speak, Hunter simply nodded and extended her hand to Hutch.
He understood. He said nothing as he shook her hand, just nodded and smiled slightly.
Then Hunter raised her gun toward the corridor again and unclipped one of the flash-bang grenades from her vest.
"On three," said Hobson, his own grenade in hand. "One. Two. Three."
They lobbed their flash-bangs down opposite corridors, fired two quick bursts after them then ran toward the exit. They heard the grenades go off and they heard the squeal of the ril-galas ticks as the grenades blinded and deafened them and then they were outside in the shining sun, stumbling as their eyes adjusted.
"Back!" yelled Hobson. "Everyone back!"
Hunter heard the boom of Hutch's shotgun and then the louder, near-deafening boom of the teramite detonating and then she was flying forward, carried on a concussion wave of hot air as the plant erupted in flames. Landing heavily on her chest, the wind forced from her lungs again, Hunter rolled over to see the mushroom cloud rising from the burning skeleton that was once the tumorous blight of the ril-galas rendering plant. It was gone now, nothing but flame and debris, and so was everything that had been inside it.
Including Hutchings.
Hunter realised she didn't know the man's first name. Or even if Hutchings was his real name.
Pushing herself up to her knees, she sucked in air and tried to get her breathing under control. She could hear voices, but they were indistinct and nonsensical until she heard one right in front of her.
"Hunter," said Ransom-Arthur. "Are you all right? Where's Hutch?"
"He stayed." It was all she could say.
Hands grabbed her under the arms and helped her to her feet—Hobson, who had recovered much more quickly than she had. Turning back to Ransom, Hunter was about to tell her—tell everyone—about Hutch's sacrifice when suddenly a large black blur hammered into Ransom's back, knocking her to the ground.
A ril-galas tick stood over her, raising its claw for the killing blow and Hunter reacted. She didn't think, she didn't plan, she just reacted.
All of her hate, all of her anger, all of her pure, unadulterated rage at the universe, from her time as a test subject of Nightwatch to how she was treated by the Rangers on the Vimy Ridge to her loathing of those humans who would sell out their own species. Her fresh pain at the loss of Hutch. And of course, her abhorrence of the ril-galas themselves. All of it was fired like a missile directly into the alien's mind and it staggered backward as if shot and then collapsed to the ground, twitching, until someone lunged forward and put four bullets into it.
Hunter dropped to her knees again and fell forward, catching herself with one hand while the other cradled her pounding head.
She watched as if in slow motion as a drop of blood splattered on the dirt beside her thumb. And then another. And a third and fourth.
There was sound inside her like rushing water and all she could smell was the coppery scent of her own blood. Through her left eye, the world seemed almost greyscale and a hollow itch formed at the base of her skull.
She'd broken something inside herself, she knew.
Looking up, she saw Ransom rushing to her side and the girl helped her to her feet.
She was broken, but she'd saved Ransom.
Long live the King.
45
ON HER FOURTH COFFEE in three hours, Khaifa was too wired to sleep even though she knew she should. To be fair, she wasn't sure she'd have been able to sleep even if she hadn't been pumped full of caffeine—the documents spread out before her had her mind spinning. Her meeting with Babacar and Van Der Berg had ended hours ago, but aside from a quick trip to get something to eat, the doctor hadn't left her office. In some twisted way, she didn't want to ever leave her office again—instead, she just wanted to curl up into a ball under her desk and wait for it all to be over. Wait for the ril-galas to leave, wait for normalcy and sanity to return to humanity.
Of course she knew that was absurd. The ril-galas weren't going to just leave of their own accord, just like normalcy wouldn't miraculously return to the human race.
And neither of those items would be encouraged to happen under the watchful eye of DeFreitas and Upshaw.
It had taken her far longer to realise it than she cared to admit, just how completely the two of them were...
She didn't even know what they were. Power hungry? Probably. Insular? Definitely. But what shocked her the most was how okay they seemed with maintaining the Commonwealth's current status quo. Just maintaining what the Commonwealth had and, of course, strengthening their own grip on it.
Holding up the one particular set of papers that caused her head to spin the most, Khaifa sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair. She noticed as she held the papers that her hand was shaking and tried to blame it on the caffeine, but she had always been a horrible liar.
Khaifa barely glanced up as Ironhorse entered the room.
"Captain," she said.
"Doctor. I brought cookies."
At that, she did look up.
"What?"
"Cookies," he said, setting a small paper bag on her desk. "Just sugar cookies, but they're fresh. There's a woman at the marketplace who makes them."
The marketplace was a former storage bay that had, out of necessity, been converted into the bastard love child of an open-air market and a shopping mall.
She opened the bag and the smell that wafted out almost made her mouth water. Pulling out a still-warm cookie, she took a bite and closed her eyes, savouring the sweetness.
"These are amazing," she said around a second bite.
"I know, I ate a whole bag on the way up here," said Ironhorse, without a trace of guilt. "I ran into Van Der Berg while I was down there."
Khaifa finished her cookie and took a sip of coffee to wash it down before looking up at the Captain, raising a brow. No one just 'ran into' Truus Van Der Berg, especially now.
"She did consulting for ATC Castle," he said.
"Yes, I know. She left CSID for the private sector, then came back about a year before the invasion."
He nodded.
"Just seemed odd, you meeting with a former PMC. Given the situation."
"How does the military feel about ATC Castle, Captain Ironhorse?"
The question appeared to catch him off guard and he stared for a moment as she took another cookie.
"I don't understand the question," he said finally. It was a stalling tactic of course and she knew it.
"Yes you do."
"There are some members of the Commonwealth Armed Forces who would prefer a more... distinct separation between our military and a private military contractor," he said carefully. "And there are others who look to ATC Castle as the future."
"The future of the Commonwealth?" she asked, her brow creased in a frown.
"Yeah, but more specifically the military. They have better pay," he admitted. "Better benefits. Gear developed by the company for their operators—top of the line stuff."
"You almost sound envious, Captain."
The right side of his mouth twitched upward in a half smile.
"I used to talk about Ciara Raze the same way, but it doesn't mean I was going to leave my wife for her."
Khaifa chuckled. Once upon a time, Ciara Raze had been the biggest music star in the Commonwealth and companies had stumbled over each other to hire her for their ad campaigns. She was also an incredible beauty and notorious party girl—and, if Khaifa remembered correctly, had partied quite a bit with one Kestrel Cagliari. Whether or not the celebrity was still alive, she had no idea. Though she assumed that if she was, someone, somewhere would have gotten word out.
"I didn't know you were married," said Khaifa. "I'd love to talk to your wife sometime."
"So would I. She was a flight attendant aboard the Astral Navigator."
"I'm sorry," said Kaifa, closing her eyes briefly and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her desk.
A luxury starliner, the Astral Navigator was the civilian equivalent of what the HMS Royal Sovereign was to the Commonwealth Navy—the biggest, most advanced ship in existence. It had also been lost with all hands, the last ship to be destroyed before the ril-galas had set up their blockade around Thor's Hammer. Between passengers and crew, nearly seven thousand lives had been lost.
"It seems like a long time ago," he said.
"It does indeed," she said quietly. "I lost my husband shortly after you lost your wife. He was... killed in action helping Radko."
It was a lie, but a reasonable one, one that wouldn't tarnish Harlan's memory. Wouldn't paint him as the villain, which is something that Radko had been adamant about despite the circumstances of her estranged husband's death.
Ironhorse just nodded.
"Why do you ask?"
"Pardon?"
"About the military. Their feelings toward ATC Castle."
Taking a deep breath, Khaifa shuffled some of the papers on her desk.
"Captain, do you know my official title here?"
"Minister of Health?"
"Director of the Ministry of Health, actually," she said. "It's an important distinction, because to be a Minister I would have had to be elected."
"But as Director, you were appointed," he said nodding. "Something that can't be done with a Deputy PM?"
"Yes. There's also this..."
She held up a paper that had several sections highlighted and she noticed again that her hand was shaking.
"This is a page from the Commonwealth Constitution," she said. "Section four, subsection G, clause seventeen. Constitutional scholars call it the 'Questionable Health' clause."
Clearing her throat, she began to read the highlighted excerpt.
"Should it be determined that the Prime Minister of the Commonwealth, due to physical or mental malady or disorder, be no longer fit to carry out the duties of his or her office, the office of the Director of the Ministry of Health shall serve notice and, with documentation of their findings, apply this clause to effect the temporary removal of the Prime Minister from office. The duration of said removal shall be for no less than thirty days and shall continue for as long as is medically required."
Ironhorse simply stared at her as she set down the papers and looked him in the eye.
"If the Prime Minister is removed, the Deputy Prime Minister would assume the role of PM for the duration of his removal."
"But we've already established that the appointment of Upshaw is unconstitutional," said the Captain.
"And so legally, we don't have a Deputy PM," she said, nodding slowly.
"So... who takes over...?
"The most senior member of the Royal family, believe it or not."
Frowning, Ironhorse shook his head.
"Well we don't exactly have a Royal hanging around, so is there a next best thing clause?"
Khaifa inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly. She was no longer meeting Ironhorse's gaze, instead focusing intently on the pages in front of her. When she spoke, reading again from the pages, her voice was unusually quiet, unusually devoid of emotion. Or perhaps it wasn't devoid of emotion—perhaps it showed nervousness? Fear?
"If no member of the Royal family is able to assume the role, the role of Prime Minister of the Commonwealth shall be filled by the Director of the Ministry of Health. The Director shall assume the duties of Prime Minister only until such time as the Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister or a member of the Royal family is able to assume the role."
46
THOUGH EL BAHARI HAD been expecting another update on the Thor's Hammer situation, she had not expected it to be so detailed. Or so shocking.
"And she was reading directly from the Constitution?"
"Yes," said Ironhorse. "I got a copy and confirmed for myself. Section four, subsection G, clause seventeen, if you want to see for yourself."
"No, it's fine," she said, leaning her head against the bulkhead. "I believe you."
Taking a deep breath, el Bahari suddenly found her quarters far too small, the Vimy Ridge much too far away from Thor's Hammer.
"What do you want to do?" asked Ironhorse after a few moments of silence.
"We knew this was a possibility and we planned for it," she said, closing her eyes.
She didn't say that they hadn't planned for it so soon, but she didn't have to.
"We planned for it, yeah," said Ironhorse. "But we aren't fully prepared for it. Not everything is in place to deal with this right now, Amira."
A soft beep came from her tablet, another connection request on her encrypted channels. Upshaw.
"Upshaw is requesting a connection."
"What will you tell her?"
"Nothing," said el Bahari. "She's unstable. If she finds out Khaifa is thinking about invoking the QH clause, she'll round up Khaifa, Babacar and Ven Der Berg and there will be more show trials and executions and then it will be outright civil war."
"You don't think we're headed in that direction already?"
"Not if things can be handled... properly."
"Meaning your way."
"Meaning logically," she said, more sharply than was likely required. "As opposed to being based on paranoia or a need for revenge. I have to go."
She didn't wait for an acknowledgement before terminating the connection and accepting Upshaw's.
"What took you so long?" demanded the Deputy Prime Minister.
"Don't be so fucking stupid," snapped el Bahari. "I'm the XO of a naval vessel, I'm not at your beck and call. That's what you have Vossek for. What do you want?"
There was silence for a moment and it made el Bahari feel good to imagine Upshaw stewing at her comments, looking for a way to dispute them and realising that the naval officer was correct.
"Vossek has reported back from the moon of Casandra Hajek," said Upshaw, her voice tight. "You're not there."
"We've been delayed. We ran into a ril-galas ship, a type we'd never seen before. One of our engines was damaged," she said, making it up as she went. "Repairs have only just now been completed—we've been back on course for less than twenty minutes."
Every so often, it amazed el Bahari how fluid her lies had become. How well one could flow into the other and how she somehow managed to keep them all straight.
"We've now lost contact with the Adirondack," said Upshaw. "They were in pursuit of the pirate ship that raided Duster's Range, the Azathoth's Tongue-"
"Azrael's Tear."
"Its name is inconsequential."
"It successfully raided one of your most secure R&D facilities. I'd hardly call that inconsequential."
She shouldn't have said it, but she found she rather enjoyed baiting the woman.
"Vossek pursued them as they left Hajek," said Upshaw, biting off each word as if the conversation were now causing her physical pain. "He reported an udukiin vessel entering the area and we have had no contact since."
"Then he's probably dead."
"Your flippancy is becoming-"
"It is not flippancy, Bianca—it is realism. Vossek ordered the Adirondack into the Udukiin Priex, knowing full well how they react to such incursions. Not only that, but he began firing his weapons in close proximity to the udukiin home world. The only surprising thing, if the udukiin have tracked down and destroyed the Adirondack, would be that it took them this long to do it. What Vossek did was at best fatally irresponsible and at worst an act of war."
Again, el Bahari closed the connection without waiting for a response. If Upshaw complained, she could realistically claim that she had been called away to tend to her duties. It was partially true—Radko had arranged a substantial strategy meeting to incorporate their newly acquired assets into the attack plan against the Hornet's Nest.
As was expected, Admiral Zhang was the last to arrive. His security team had had a difficult time understanding that the Vimy Ridge was not, in fact, a hostile ship anymore and that when Radko personally guaranteed Zhang's safety, he'd meant it. But the Admiral did finally arrive, two armed marines at his side, and took his place among the rest of the senior officers clustered around the sand table.
