A Dragon at the Gate (The New Aeneid Cycle Book 3) (15 page)

It did not help that the disaster three months earlier had involved
Paragon
’s computer seizing control of ESA’s robotic turrets to kill the ESA crew. Yet the same would not occur with Moondog. It operated on its own pre-programmed directives—not a true artificial intelligence, but with enough decision-making capability to manage itself in combat conditions. While it would accept voice commands from pre-authorized personnel, the only electronic remote control it possessed was used to shut it down.

Yet even if
Paragon’s
systems did—somehow—manage to assume direct control of Moondog, each member of Marette’s team entering the chamber carried a remote to detonate a tiny explosive charge implanted in Moondog’s CPU brain. Even if those remotes should fail, the charge would also trigger off of a verbal kill-switch that would destroy the CPU if anyone uttered the phrase “Laputan machine.”

They had underestimated
Paragon
before. They would not do so again.

Or so Marette hoped. There was no getting around the fact that risk was a necessary price of progress.

She let her gaze travel across the force field without knowing what she was looking for. She double-checked the oxygen readout on her suit: a full supply. Though she was breathing
Paragon
’s air for the moment, who knew what would happen when they started to meddle?

“
D’accord
,” she said finally. “Begin your preparations.”

At her signal, Dr. Sheridan entered alongside Marc. Each wore spacesuits of their own. Between them they lugged a trunk-sized piece of equipment, and Marc carried a smaller box in his other hand. Two other agents, Cartwright and Kotto, brought up the rear carrying rifles of their own.

With Moondog beside her, Marette kept watch on the field as Sheridan and Marc set down their payload and began to unpack its contents: a “vector flux modulator” of Sheridan’s design that they hoped would help disrupt the field. It would work in concert with the adaptive program Marc had developed to adjust the modulator and counteract the field’s own attempts to maintain itself.

Thus far, Marette considered, her first operation since returning to the Moon was going smoothly. Yet she could not exorcise the thought that it was on her watch that the most disastrous events around
Paragon
had occurred: The eradication of the first team to enter the ship. The death of hacker Suzanne Namura. The near-total cataclysm when
Paragon
’s systems took control of the Omicron Complex computers and killed most of its personnel . . .

It was true that a great deal of progress had been made under Marette’s leadership as well. Yet they had also made much progress at
Paragon
while she had been gone, with little in terms of trouble. Was it merely bad luck, or had she done something wrong?

It was a ridiculous thought, Marette knew. She had done the best she could, and she had returned here to continue to make a positive difference. Something big lurked behind that force field—something that could lead to the key to reverse engineering the technology that had gotten
Paragon
there from wherever it had come. She had no business wasting time on baseless worry.

So why could she not stop?

“Modulator’s powered up, Marette. Standing by to go.”

Marette nodded to Dr. Sheridan’s report. “Status, Marc?”

Marc had unpacked a laptop from the smaller box he’d brought in. His mirrored visor reflected the light from the laptop screen amid the pulse of the nearby power conduits. Connected to the laptop and held in Marc’s left hand was the device he would use to access
Paragon’s
hardware systems via one of the ports on the wall with which the black material interfaced. “Coming up now. Looks like we’re ready if you are?”

Marette gathered a breath. “Absolutely.” With a stand-by nod to Cartwright and Kotto, she opened her comm-channel. “Primary Control, do you read? We are beginning the operation.”

Councilor Knapp acknowledged from outside in the Omicron Complex. “Remain vigilant.”

Mon dieu,
as if she needed to be told. Marette signaled the others to begin.

Marc attached the interface to the wall. “Connected.”

“Have you got a read on the field power?” Sheridan asked.

“If it works the way we think it does.”

Sheridan reached for the modulator’s control screen. “Stay back from the field please, everyone. As far as you can.” She slid a finger across the screen, and its indicator lights brightened. A hum grew within the chamber, its frequency and volume changing constantly as if it issued from a swarm of hornets patrolling back and forth. The field crackled, dimmed, and then brightened again. The humming grew in concert until Marette could feel the inside of her suit gloves vibrating between her fingers and her rifle.

Marc, focused on the laptop, muttered something that Marette did not catch. The humming subsided and the field returned to its gentler shimmer. Dr. Sheridan continued to work at her control screen.

At once the humming exploded into a shriek that pierced Marette’s eardrums. It forced her hands up protectively, leaving the rifle dangling from its shoulder strap. Pulsing lights on the conduits accelerated into a solid blue line. Glowing violet tendrils exploded from the center of the force field to ripple across its surface. Marette stepped back. The violet flashed white, and then burst.

And then it was gone. The humming rushed into silence. The conduits went dark.

They had defeated the force field.

“Well,” Marc said, “that wasn’t so bad, right?”

THE PHONE RANG.
The voice on the other end, answering after two rings, sounded marinated in fatigue. “
Hello?
”

Satisfied that it was indeed Felix Hiatt who had answered, Adrian spoke the code-phrase and waited. “Botany Bay.”

“
Ah, so I’m not going to be remembering this one either, huh?
” Felix’s fatigue grew acrid. “
What do you want, Fagles?
”

Adrian smiled, watching out the car window at the lights of a passing cargo floater in the sky. “I would say the occasional unmemorable conversation is worth full mnemonic health.”

“
‘Full mnemonic health,’ huh? You need to look up the definition of ‘health.’ And ‘full.’ And probably ‘decent human being’ while you’re at it. Now, like I said, what do you want?
”

“Something simple. Michael Flynn is out of the hospital--”

“
He is?
” It was the first genuine happiness Adrian had heard from Felix since the completion of Ondrea Noble’s procedure. “
Oh, wait, there must be a catch. Since when do you tell me things I want to hear?
”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“
Gee. ‘Not in the hospital’ is my guess. I haven’t heard from him. Why?
”

“I have people who wish to know. Should you see him, learn where he’s staying, and let me know.”

“
WHY?
”

“I wouldn’t recommend concerning yourself with that. A simple phone call. It’s all I ask.”

For a few moments only ambient noise traveled across the line until finally, “
Yeah. Okay.
”

“Enjoy your evening, Mister Hiatt.”

“
Is that an order, too?
”

Adrian smiled. “Botany Bay.” Mentally checking off that item from his to-do list, he ended the call.

A PAUSE.

“
WHY?
”

A longer pause.

“
Yeah, okay.
”

A shorter pause.

“
Is that an order, too?
”

The recording ended.

“And that,” Caitlin told them, “is where Felix hung up. If he comes straight home, he should be here in perhaps fifteen minutes.”

Michael sat with her and Jade around Felix’s miniscule dining room table. When he was crashing with Felix nine months ago, Michael had asked him about the engraved designs that circled its mirrored surface. Felix had explained they were letters from a fictional elvish language created by an old fantasy writer, but he’d found the table at a flea market and didn’t know who had done the engraving. When Michael asked what it said, Felix only pointed him to the Internet and challenged him to translate it for himself. Michael had moved out before managing to do so.

“How does your friend know he was talking to Fagles?” Michael asked. “I didn’t hear him use his name.”

“Rue heard it, she just couldn’t start the recording in time. And she heard Felix mention about it not being a conversation he’d be able to remember.”

Jade’s brows knitted. “This is normal for Felix?”

Caitlin held Michael’s gaze. “No. Not since his troubles a few months ago.”

“Not that we know of,” Michael reminded her. “But given recent events…?”

Caitlin remained silent, but finally nodded.

Jade smoothed a few glowing strands of hair back over one ear and leaned closer to Michael. “Safe assumption Fagles called to ask where you are, then. ‘Not in the hospital,’ and all that.”

Michael scowled. It made sense. Had Fagles sent the freelancers out of revenge for what he and Marc had done? It made sense that he would’ve waited until Michael was out of the hospital. There was no sense risking a murder if Michael would die on his own, and an attack in a hospital would attract too much attention.

“Yeah,” Michael admitted. “Sounded like he didn’t know, at least.” Would Felix really betray him?
Not by choice. Never.

“Not yet,” Jade said. “But the second he walks through that door, he’s going to, if we’re still here.”

“
If
Felix is working with Fagles
against
Michael,” Caitlin said, “then I can’t believe it’s by choice. We have to help him.”

“It’s risky,” Jade said.

Caitlin set her jaw. “Then Michael’s fortunate to have a freelancer here paid to protect him, isn’t he?”

“We’re going to help him,” Michael told Caitlin before Jade could respond. “And he’s got answers we need. But I don’t want to put you or him at risk.”

“He can’t tell anyone where you are if we’re all in the same room with him,” Caitlin said. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Michael nodded. “And Jade and I will leave right after. I’m not having another firefight in a friend’s apartment.”

“Let’s see what you can learn from Felix first,” Caitlin said. “It may turn out to be better for you to stay here. In the meantime, while this Fagles sod is searching for you, I’ll return the favor.” She pushed back from the table, moving toward her laptop. “If he expects to bugger with people I care about without any bloody consequences, he’s in for a surprise.”

Michael caught Jade’s approving smirk a moment before she turned to him. “Speaking of firefights in friends’ apartments, we need to get you more guns.”

TUCKED AWAY
in Felix’s kitchen, Michael listened as Caitlin greeted Felix at the door.

“Out anywhere interesting?” she asked.

“Oh, just wandering, listening for any interesting tidbits floating around. Nothing exciting. How’ve you been?”

“Michael got out of the hospital,” she said.

“He’s awake? They released him?” Felix’s surprise sounded genuine. “That’s great!”

“He’s in your kitchen, in fact.”

Felix poked his head around the edge of the doorway. “He is!” Felix ducked back. “Is he making us dinner?”

Before anyone could answer, Felix rushed back around into the kitchen and hugged Michael with a laugh. “Great to see you vertical, Flynn! And also awake. We tried propping you up with a hand-truck when you were still in that coma, and it just wasn’t the same. Had to tie you to it to keep you upright, for one thing. Hey, I’m babbling, aren’t I?” Felix stepped back and grinned. “How’re you?”

Michael couldn’t help but return the grin. “I’m good, for the most part. Considering.”

Felix hesitated. “Something’s up, isn’t it?”

Michael nodded. “How can you tell?”

“It’s
me
, Flynn. I can tell things. Anything to do with why you were in the hospital?”

“Not so much,” Michael told him. “I think. Can we talk alone?”

“We can if we believe we can.” Felix’s joke didn’t quite cover the concern on his face. “Bedroom, I guess?”

With a glance at Caitlin, he motioned for Michael to follow, headed for the bedroom. Michael followed Felix in and closed the door behind him.

“Was that Jade in my living room?” Felix asked, leaning one elbow on top of a bookcase. “Seems a nice gal, for a freelancer. Any sparks there, or is that purely a professional thing?”

The question threw Michael’s train of thought into disarray. Jade
was
professional. Competent, smart, kept him on his toes. And maybe he had caught himself admiring her looks more than once, but—

He decided to let it go for the moment and re-gathered his thoughts. “Have you heard anything from the AoA, Felix?”

“Tsk.” Felix winked. “Avoiding the question. You like her hair?”

“Who wouldn’t? Now, speaking of avoiding questions.” Michael crossed his arms and waited. Was Felix stalling, or just being his usual self?

“You avoided first.” Felix grinned, but went on. “But no, I haven’t. If nothing else, I’ve been wondering how Marc’s doing. What about you?”

Michael looked at the wall. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy, but nor had he realized how much he’d hoped it would be. Dammit, he should have planned for that answer.

He must have taken too long to respond, because Felix followed up with, “Bad news, or no news?”

“No news.” It couldn’t hurt to share that much at least, could it? “Which, obviously, has me worried.”

“Then Jade isn’t—?”

“What about anything else?” Michael asked. “Anything you’re involved in that you can tell me but you can’t tell Caitlin?”

Felix blinked, turned, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Oh, hell. It’s happening again, isn’t it? Or, she thinks it is?”

“Caitlin?” Michael swallowed and caught himself nodding even as he tried to gauge what was going on in Felix’s mind. Felix’s jaw was clenched. Elbows rested on his thighs while he worried his left thumb between his right thumb and forefinger. One corner of his mouth turned downward in what looked like dismay.