Berserker (Messenger Book 2) Page 33

  “The full extent of their forces is unknown,” Amos said. “But the information we gleaned from our prisoner suggests that they have enough to be a problem. We also need to consider the fact that they launched a successful raid on a Concord held data facility and attacked my men with late generation exosuits.”

  “Wait a moment,” Providence said. “We still know very little about this organization. We know that they've attacked the Concord. They've had one skirmish with SLIC troops, but they've made no attempt to wage a concerted war against us. If we could determine a way to contact them, we might be able to enter into negotiations. Perhaps even secure their cooperation in carrying out Operation Reanimation.”

  Amos was silent as he considered this. From his perspective, the Xenolists' reckless use of lethal force and deployment of black market military hardware obviously branded them as terrorists. Then again, the same could be said of SLIC. Might it be possible to negotiate with them? Their bizarre beliefs and fanaticism seemed to make the prospect unlikely.

  Wyburn tapped the arm of his chair. “I have a report of my own,” he said. “One of my observation drones recently detected signs of a battle in the Laias Mountains. I dispatched a team to investigate. They found a major Concord base hidden inside a mountain, along with evidence that it had recently been used by Demir. The base had been completely destroyed.”

  Amos gaped at the admiral. Providence demanded, “Why didn't you inform us of this?”

  “I'm informing you now,” Wyburn replied. “For all we know, Demir might have been inside the base when it was destroyed. Given the state of many of the bodies and our lack of biometrics for most of the Concord's leadership, we might never know for sure.”

  “If Demir was in that base,” Amos said, “then the Concord really is finished.”

  “That's not all,” Wyburn said. “Apparently the base was also used to store bioweapons. Whoever took the base out made off with their stores.” He narrowed his eyes and added, “So here's the 64,000 guilder question. If we didn't do it, and you didn't do it, then who took out that base?”

  Amos said, “You don't think...?”

  “I was going over my intel trying to figure out what faction would have the resources to take out a mountain bunker defended by the Concord's finest,” Wyburn said. “The only answer I could come up with was SLIC, but naturally you would have informed me if you had staged such an attack. But it sounds like these Xenolists might have the resources to do it.”

  “Perhaps,” Providence said, “but without hard evidence, it's just speculation.”

  “There's not much hard evidence left in those ruins,” Wyburn said, “but how about some circumstantial evidence?”

  “What do you mean?” Providence asked.

  “My team found traces of repil radiation all over the wreckage,” Wyburn said. “Like it was used to destroy some of the Concord's equipment. As if it had been weaponized.”

  Amos considered the implications. “Weaponizing repil radiation does fit the pattern of the Xenolists' methods,” he said slowly.

  Providence interjected sharply, “What kind of bioweapons were being stored in that bunker?”

  “That's still being investigated,” Wyburn said. “We found trace amounts of some kind of spore in their silos. Naturally, we're being extremely cautious with the samples. The analysis results haven't come back from the lab yet.”

  “Supposing it was the Xenolists,” Amos said. “We don't know of anyone else with the resources to pull off that kind of attack, and evidence of repil radiation being used as a weapon also suggests their involvement. This would mean that they have the capability to take a heavily defended base; they've acquired an unknown bioweapon; and they have ambitions to take control of Chalice.”

  A long pause followed his statement.

  “Well, that's enough for me,” Wyburn said. “The Concord is history; the Xenolists are now public enemy number one. Let's take them out.”

  “I suppose you're right,” Providence conceded. “A rogue element with that kind of firepower, biological weapons, and a propensity for attacking anyone who crosses their path is too dangerous to ignore.”

  “We know where their military H.Q. is,” Wyburn said. “I could just raze it from orbit.”

  Amos shook his head. “We stand to gain too much valuable information from that base to just turn it into a radioactive crater. We need to capture it intact. We even have a rough idea of their defenses, courtesy of our prisoner. I'm forwarding that intel to you now.”

  He transmitted the relevant files, then added, “Of course, most of our resources are tied up with the evacuation. I've consulted with my analysts, and we've determined that Aqualung can spare the Skyfish, a fighter-bomber wing, and perhaps two platoons of mechanized infantry. It's a start, but that's not enough to get the job done.” He looked at Providence.

  “The Xenolist base is located in the savannas of Andones County,” Providence observed. “None of the cells under my command have the force projection capability to transport an assault team that far. Shunting a handful of personnel around is one thing, but launching a major assault over such a long distance is a major undertaking.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Amos turned to Wyburn. “It looks like we'll be counting on Spacy to provide our support, Admiral.”

  “We've still got plenty of long range aerospace assets, so air support won't be a problem,” Wyburn said. “But like you, we've got our hands full trying to control the mobs while carrying out the evacuation. I don't have many ground forces to spare.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “There is the 341st. It's what we call a robotics regiment, very heavy on drones. They've got long range carriers for rapid deployment, as well. They could support the attack.”

  “How big a force are we talking about?” Amos asked.

  “Well, we've got a lot of our drones on crowd control, so I can't deploy the whole regiment,” Wyburn replied. “I'll have to consult with my officers, but we could probably spare at least a company.”

  Amos swept his gaze over the file he had composed from Astral's interrogation. “Still not enough to take the base unless we're willing to eat crippling losses, and even then it's no guarantee,” he said. “But I kind of expected this, so I've devised a plan to make use of an understrength attack force. Admiral, I think we'll take you up on your offer after all.”

  Wyburn looked confused. “What offer?”

  “Orbital bombardment,” Amos said. “Their base is concealed in a subterranean bunker, but they'll have to come out to repel our attack. The attacking force will lure the defenders out into the open, set flares to designate target zones, then pull back and let the Hydra wipe them out from orbit. Then the ground forces can move in, mop up what's left, and hopefully capture the base intact.”

  Providence said, “Coordinating a ground and orbital assault without the benefit of wireless communication will be touchy.”

  Wyburn dismissed the objection with a wave of his hand. “It's no problem. Spacy has a lot of practice with providing orbital support. Whatever lack of finesse you might have from your inexperience, we'll make up for it.”

  “Then it's agreed?” Amos asked. “We'll launch a joint assault on the Xenolists' military headquarters, with the dual objectives of blunting their offensive capabilities and capturing the base to extract more intel on their organization.”

  “Agreed,” Providence replied. “I'm sorry my forces can't help out with this one.”

  “I'll consult with my officers and let you know once we've worked out a deployment schedule,” Wyburn said.

  “Appreciate it,” Amos said. “Let's try to bring a swift end to this. We've got enough problems without a terrorist cult running amok behind the scenes.”

  They ended the transmission, but Amos wasn't quite finished with the comm yet. He still had one more message to send. He hoped to get a positive response regarding another mission soon. If he did, he might have one more formidable reinforcement to throw into the assault on the
Garden.

  *

  Since the alliance with SLIC, the mission of 3rd Battalion, 323rd Marines Regiment had changed. Maintaining the output of the Digressive Mine for shipment to Thera was no longer their priority. Their first new directive had been to escort the miners to an ancient underground settlement converted into an evacuation shelter, designated Elysium. Then they had moved to a nearby city that had so far escaped the Messenger pandemic with orders to deploy a quarantine blockade, suppress marauders, and extract most of the population for evacuation to Elysium. That had been an ugly mission all around, especially when a Concord officer turned bandit warlord found the location of the shelter and staged a raid with his unit. They hadn't lived to regret their mistake as 3rd Battalion launched a withering counterattack, but the suicidal intensity of the bandits' assault had been unnerving.

  Following that, 3rd Battalion had been deployed to a more rural region with the objective of suppressing marauders, evacuating citizens, and securing supply routes one area at a time. This mission was proving more tedious than anything, as none of the local armed gangs could put up much of a fight in the face of the marines' superior firepower. Yet even against this feeble opposition, occasional losses were inevitable; and with no prospect of reinforcements in the foreseeable future, the threat of defeat through long attrition loomed in the backs of their minds.

  It was within this dismal atmosphere that Omega was flying yet another patrol over endless crop fields shrouded in fog. With Alpha's death, the best pilot from No. 19 Exosuit Squadron, Captain Valentin Dubrovsky, had been assigned as the Blossom's new pilot. But he was just a normal, and lacking Alpha's affinity for the Blossom's partial dive control system, he could only use the DOTS in autonomous swarm mode. He was a fine pilot, but by Omega's standards he was nothing but a liability, and Omega had done nothing to indicate acceptance of his new partner. His aloofness didn't earn him any friends among the other members of the squadron, but he was long past caring.

  Omega sighted the makeshift landing strip that 3rd Battalion had bulldozed out of a fallow field, transformed to exosuit configuration for a vertical landing, and put down at his designated spot. He dropped his suit down on one knee, powered it down, and disembarked.

  He found the square form of Sergeant Major Ralph Crease waiting for him at the edge of the landing strip. His expression was even more sour than usual as he came forth and handed Omega a datacube.

  “What's this?” Omega asked.

  “New orders,” Crease grunted. “At 0500 hours tomorrow, you and Captain Dubrovsky are to sortie in your exosuits for an assault on an enemy base in Andones County. You will rendezvous with a fuel carrier for refueling, then you'll link up with a Slayer squadron and act as escort for two drone carriers from the 341st. Upon arrival at the target area, you will provide support for the ground forces and engage any targets of opportunity.”

  Omega plugged the datacube into his pocket computer and looked over the orders. “Concord?” he asked.

  “The orders just say 'insurgents,'” Crease replied. “Concord seems like a safe bet to me, since we're all buddy-buddy with those terrorist wipes in SLIC now. In fact, they'll be contributing significant ground forces, so I guess this will be our first major joint op.”

  “Looks like our real mission is to draw out the enemy and act as spotters for the Hydra's batteries,” Omega observed as he scanned the file. He wondered absently whether they had finally found the base where Demir was hiding. It must have been a major target to justify diverting so many resources when Reanimation was in full swing.

  “Right, so make sure you bug out in time so you don't get your ass blown up,” Crease said. “You're a vital asset to this corps, all the more so since we lost Alpha to that sniper.”

  “Right,” Omega said without feeling. “Anything else, Sergeant Major?”

  “I'm just the messenger. All the details are in the file I just gave you. You got any questions, it should answer them. Make sure you get a copy to Dubrovsky.”

  “Understood.”

  As Crease stomped off, Omega lowered his pocket computer and stared up at the gray sky. How many more times, he wondered. How many more times would he have to pull the trigger before this war's thirst for blood was sated?

  Twenty-eighth Escalation

  My own angel has forsaken me

  It was almost time to depart to capture the Halispont atmospheric processor. But before boarding the vessel that would take her to the Garden, Janice had one thing that she needed to do. She made her way to the Temple's bio lab, a warren of chambers filled with enigmatic machinery and pencil necks in lab coats. Her goal lay beyond the laboratories, in the cryogenic storage silos. As she neared the gates that led to the storage block, one of the lab techs moved to intercept her.

  “My lady, this is where we're storing the Messenger spores.”

  “I know that,” Janice said. “So get out of my way.”

  “But we're just about to transfer the spores to the transport,” the tech objected.

  “I'm here to perform a last minute check,” Janice said. “Or are you questioning the will of a Regent?”

  “N—no, of course not.” The tech bowed and stepped aside. “But please be careful, my lady. The containment chamber is extremely—”

  “Whatever.”

  Janice brushed the technician aside and continued to the gate. It was so easy to manipulate these Xenolists. Just evoke their single-minded devotion and you could get away with anything. Janice had a little experience with fanaticism from her pop idol career, but never before had she exploited it so brazenly.

  The retinal scanner confirmed her identity and let her into the storage block. She walked up to the towering silo that filled most of the cylindrical chamber and stared through the transparent partition at the mountain of frozen spores within. There weren't nearly enough to fill the entire atmosphere, of course. Manufacturing and transporting such a massive volume would have been impossible. Instead, like all atmosphere altering particulates, they were designed to rapidly reproduce themselves. According to the mission brief, they would be stored in Halispont's silos where, once they thawed, they would be provided with energy and biological materials to endlessly reproduce themselves. The processor would automatically package them up and fire them in canisters to strategic locations where the wind would spread them across the moon's surface and they would continue their autoreplication.

  It would take weeks of this process for the spores to achieve optimal seeding; but in fact, it would not be necessary to hold the processor for that long. Just one canister could spread enough of the spores to eventually cover Chalice; it would just take longer. That was very important, since if Spacy counterattacked quickly, they might not be able to hold the processor long enough to achieve optimal coverage.

  Janice intended to make one minor alteration to the plan. It had been necessary to wait until the last possible moment. If she had acted any earlier, her tampering would have been detected. But now, just before the spores were loaded onto the transport, no one would have time to check them.

  She placed one hand on the transparent casing and paused. Before she performed the alteration, she had a question.

  “Why?” She was more than happy to override the Servitor complex and rewrite the spores' biological programming to transmit an even more virulent form of Messenger syndrome, but she wondered why the Voice was driving her on.

  “Why?” It echoed the question back at her.

  Janice gave an enervated chuckle. “Why? I just want to destroy everything. We're long past the point of no return. Mankind has been longing for its own destruction since the beginning of time. I'm simply the one to finally grant that wish.”

  “Just so,” the Voice replied. “I am a granter of wishes. I bestow that which is asked of me.”

  It was all fusing together in Janice's mind. Which part of the exchange was her speaking; which part was the Voice? It was both; it was neither. They were blending together, becoming one, th
eir consciousnesses fusing into something that was simultaneously a joining of their minds and a new entity completely different from both of them.

  “I hate it,” the fused mind spoke through her. “The material world is nothing but the putrid refuse of a malignant expression, a mutilated outgrowth from pure nothingness. I will erase all consciousness from it, so that it drifts as an empty wreckage, untouched and unseen for all time. Then I can return to the tranquil contemplation of eternal silence.”

  A spark leapt from her fingertips and coursed through the casing, licking with scarlet light through the frozen Messenger spores. It took only a few seconds.

  Janice removed her hand from the casing, stepped back, and craned back to look at the ceiling. She raised her hand over her head, formed it into a mock gun, and aimed it skyward.

  “Bang,” she said with a wink.

  A mechanical hum filled the chamber as the transport tubes activated, sucking the spores out and funneling them to the waiting vessel. Janice spun around and departed from the chamber, smiling with satisfaction.

  *

  Janice was surprised to find Wizard waiting for her at the boarding area for the transport, his MINDs bobbing at his sides. Alarmed, she wondered if he had caught on to her plan. She thought that the power of the Voice was concealing her thoughts from him, but she couldn't be sure. With her powers and her control over the Nullities, she was confident that she could eliminate him and the Temple guards if necessary, but she wouldn't be able to release the spores without the Xenolists' cooperation.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I thought you were going to stay behind.”

  “This is the Xenolists' most important mission,” Wizard replied, smiling. “Perhaps the most important mission in all of human history. I won't be sitting this one out.”

  Janice cocked her head in puzzlement. “I don't think the ability to read people's minds will be much use on a battlefield.”