Chapter Eight
Carter pored over planetary government and news report feeds of acts of terrorism perpetrated by Lamani’s followers. His cyborg brain compiled then sliced and diced the data. Cyber Operations would never give up. He would catch and neutralize that bastard if it was the last thing he did.
They had to find him first. Where the hell could he be hiding? The leader of the nation planet Lamis-Odg had been responsible for unspeakable acts of terror against innocents, yet hid like a coward. No one—not even his many sons—admitted to seeing him in over a decade. Someone was sheltering him.
“You’re looking grim.” Brock entered and sank into a sensa-chair.
He shook his head. “In the past year, hundreds of micro-explosive device bombings have killed nearly one hundred thousand people, affecting five nation planets. As Lamis-Odg extends its reach, the death toll will rise. They’ve established two more satellite outposts.”
“What’s the count now, fifty-four?”
“Fifty-five satellite bases—plus they’ve proclaimed ownership of another planet. You’ll appreciate the latest one.” He switched the data stream to background mode. His microprocessor could continue to crunch data while he moved on to other business. Cyborgs were masters at multitasking.
Brock arched his eyebrows. “Why?”
“It’s DeltaNu9084,” Carter replied. Brock had been marooned on the planet with the Association of the Planets ambassador who later became his wife. The forested planet appeared utopian, but acid filled its lakes and rivers.
“With any luck, they’ll do the galaxy a favor and decide to go for a swim,” Brock said.
Carter snorted, but sobered quickly. “Between planets and satellites, they’ve infiltrated ten sectors now.” It didn’t take a cyborg’s computing power to understand why terrorist acts had accelerated every year for the past decade, 40 percent in the past year alone. “With every new outpost, every settlement, they extend their reach.”
“While the AOP secretary general conducts ‘Kumbaya’ singalongs,” Brock said. “He worries more about insulting people than he does about protecting their lives.”
“In the old days, they called that political correctness,” Carter said.
“Now, we call it bullshit.”
“Following that kind of policy allows people to appear to be concerned without doing anything to change the situation,” Carter said.
“It’s working for him. Every time Lamani’s followers set off an MED and blow up a bunch of people, Benson Vincere is the first to pay his condolences to the nation planet. It’s bought him a lot of good PR,” Brock said.
Carter nodded. “Only Xenia, Arcania, and Terra United voted against Vincere in the election.”
“Now we’re stuck with him as the head of the AOP for another ten-year term,” Brock said grimly.
“A lot can happen in a decade.” A lot of good, or a lot of bad. A decade before, Lamis-Odg had been an isolated nation planet of crackpots nobody paid any mind to. Ignored by the galaxy, they grew in strength and numbers, improved their technology, and recruited sympathizers and mercenaries. By the time people took notice—when the nation began launching attacks against its neighbors, the terrorists had grown tentacles throughout the galaxy. He worried they were approaching a tipping point. If they didn’t halt the progression now, Lamis-Odg might become unstoppable.
“Vincere better wake the fuck up or learn to speak Odgidian,” Brock said.
“We won’t lose the fight,” Carter vowed. “It would be easier if the AOP saw the light, and we could depend on member planets for resources, but even without the AOP’s help, Cyber Operations will defeat Lamis-Odg. We will find Lamani and neutralize him.”
Anything else was unthinkable.
To followers, Lamani was both prophet and living incarnate of their god they called the Great One. The people of Lamis-Odg accepted with blind faith a duality: Lamani was both Odgidian and divine, having been instilled with the spirit of the Great One. Believing that nonsense granted them more nonsense—passage to the Great Beyond after death. Questioning dogma would result in them being cast beneath the sand to be tortured by demons called iwani. The people obeyed Lamani with the unshakable faith of the brainwashed. As long as he lived, they would do whatever he, his sons, or his generals told them to.
To end the terrorism, Cyber Operations had to take out the leader issuing the orders.
While Cy-Ops hunted for Lamani, neutralized his generals, and rescued victims of terrorism, Aym-Sec and its like-minded allies including Mikala, continued to work on Vincere and the ambassadors to change AOP policies.
“If the AOP would do its part, we’d have more manpower to focus on finding Lamani. I’m afraid he’ll try something at the Summit,” Carter said. “This is the first time a proposal to declare war on Lamis-Odg has made it onto the agenda. It doesn’t have a quark’s chance of passing, but just getting on the ballot will elicit discussion and attention.”
The logistics of ensuring everyone had the necessary equipment at the right time was going to be huge. “We’ll need every available person, Aym-Sec, Cy-Ops, and support personnel,” he said. “How is the security check on Beth progressing?”
“Just completed it,” Brock replied. “She was easy to vet since she’s only been alive for fourteen years and spent all of it on the O’Shea space station. Illumina has almost completed the check on Georgetta and Reuben.”
“And?”
“No red flags. Sorry. Other than the cloning, forged credentials, and vague threats, they’re clean.”
He ground his teeth. He’d hoped to have something to present to the galactic police that wouldn’t violate his promise.
The O’Sheas had loved Liza. Perhaps grief over her death had caused a lapse in judgment and moral character. Too bad their hearts weren’t big enough to care for the other life they had created.
“I wouldn’t call them humanitarians,” Brock said, “and their parenting needs a shit-ton of work, but they have no connections to any criminal or terrorist networks—which is good for Beth, of course.”
A criminal act committed by a close family member or associate could be a reason to exclude a job candidate from employment, although not always. A good number of cyber operatives had been juvenile delinquents. If he excluded everyone who’d ever broken the law, Cy-Ops would have a much smaller force.
“Their inner circle has checked out as well, and we’re almost done with the next ring,” his second-in-command added. A thorough background check extended beyond the individual to include his or her family, friends, and associates. The candidate might not be involved in anything criminal, but acquaintances who were posed a security risk.
Although he took an interest in all staff members, with Beth his concern had become more personal. If she’d failed the security check, he didn’t know what he would have done. Called in some markers. Gotten someone else to hire her. Yeah, he had options, but he was glad he didn’t have to use them.
“You could assign her to the Summit now,” Brock said. “She’s very good at what she does. I waited to give her any sensitive projects until she cleared the background check—but that came through this morning.” As the provisionally hired logistics coordinator, she reported to Brock, who oversaw her on-the-job training.
Focused on mission strategy, Carter delegated day-to-day operations. He kept close tabs, but he didn’t micromanage. He employed good people and then let them do the jobs they were hired to do.
If he hadn’t mistaken Beth for Liza at the spaceport and become concerned, he wouldn’t have gotten so involved. Now, he was, and he couldn’t let it go. Her brief life, the person she was, intrigued him from a scientific and a personal point of view.
Much too personal. Just that brief hug after the bioscan had given him a nano-resistant, cyber-sized woody. Prudence strongly suggested he keep his distance, so he’d refrained from checking on her. She’d been in good hands with Brock as her direct supervisor.
“Did she settle into the barracks okay?” Carter asked.
Brock’s mouth twisted into a wry smirk. “You can’t resist, can you?”
“What?”
“Saving strays.”
No, he couldn’t resist. He’d founded Cyber Operations because the people of the galaxy needed a champion to fight for them when no one else could or would. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to save everyone, but the failures motivated him to try harder. He’d built the Cy-Ops cyborg force from men and women who’d nearly lost their lives to tragedy. Cybermed had repaired their wrecked bodies; Cy-Ops filled the emotional void with purpose. That field agents had received a second chance and chose to pay it forward was the only hope many victims had. Save one to save ten was Carter’s motto.
“If I don’t help her, who will?” he asked. Beth hadn’t suffered the physical calamities his cyborgs had, but she’d been scarred by her unconventional birth followed by the O’Sheas’ coldness and manipulation. She had no family, no home, few resources.
“To answer your question, yes, she’s settling in. She’s bunked in the provisional barracks, but she’ll be moved to permanent housing now that her clearance is final.”
* * * *
“Congratulations and welcome to Aym-Sec.”
Beth jumped. Though she’d listened for that gravelly voice for the better part of a week, hearing it now startled her. Taking a deep breath, she spun her chair around. “Thank you. Brock told me I’d passed all the background checks.”
Right after the bioscan, Carter had informed her she’d been granted probationary employment, a permanent position pending completion of a more detailed investigation. She wondered if all prospective employees were subjected to such intense scrutiny, or if she was a special case because of the initial problems.
However, the big boss, the man who’d soothed her fears and held her hand, had all but vanished for an entire week. Brock Mann was her supervisor, but she had expected Carter to check on her at least once.
Had the medical tests revealed how psychologically messed up she was? Maybe he sensed her attraction, and he’d been avoiding any awkwardness. Well, she could reassure him. She needed this job too much to screw it up by sleeping with the boss, a man who was so far out of her league, such an encounter would be laughable anyway.
“How are the headaches?” Carter asked.
“Gone,” she said. “I haven’t had one since the scan.” Once stress and fear had abated, so had the headaches. Safe now, she discovered anger. She felt betrayed by Georgetta and Reuben, but that was illogical. How could you be betrayed by someone you never trusted from the start?
Carter was a man she could trust.
Carter was a man to be feared.
She sensed both. The memory of how his officers had hauled her out of the hotel, cuffed and blindfolded, was still fresh. He’d locked her up in the brig, in solitary, and interrogated her like she was a criminal. Yet, although her credentials had been fabricated, and she was a bio-engineered human being, he’d hired her. Any other employer would have booted her out on her ass. Was he normally so generous?
The first week of employment had raised more questions than answers. She’d gotten the impression there were employees, and then there were special employees. Projects, and special projects. What did Aym-Sec do besides providing bodyguards for dignitaries and security for events? Why had she been blindfolded before going to medical?
“You’re settled in the new housing?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you. It’s been a lifesaver.” For a week, she’d stayed in the Aym-Sec dormitory, a room with six bunks, where she’d been the sole occupant.
Once her security clearance was approved, she’d been informed she could move to permanent employee housing, which she’d done this morning before her shift. Moving involved carrying her two suitcases from one end of the building to the other. The new unit came furnished with a couple of cushioned chairs, a console, a vid-screen, and a bunk that folded up into the wall. The single room with attached bath was small, stark, utilitarian, and oh so preferable to the grandeur of the O’Shea satellite. Because it was hers.
“Do you provide housing for all employees?” she asked.
He seemed to hesitate. “For those who need it.”
So he saw her as a charity case.
The truth hurt. She was a charity case. The O’Sheas had controlled everything then booted her out with almost nothing. After longing for freedom, she hadn’t expected she’d feel so alone when she got it.
“Was there something I could help you with?” she asked.
“Actually, yes. You’ve been briefed about the AOP Summit?”
“Brock mentioned it,” she replied, but she’d been aware of the all-planets meeting before her arrival. A person would have to be as dense as a meteorite to not have heard of the Summit. Fascinated by politics, she’d been glued to news feeds on the O’Shea satellite. Delegates called ambassadors convened annually to advance their interests, hash out grievances, and discuss important issues.
“Terra United is hosting this year, and President Mikala Aaron has scheduled an inspection of the Luna Convention Center.”
“Doesn’t she have staff for that?”
“Normally, yes, but Mikala intends to capitalize on the opportunity. Other leaders will be on the moon, so she’s using the walk-through as an excuse to do some politicking in advance of the Summit.” He paused. “Besides, she’s a bit of a micromanager.”
His use of her given name, his amused tone, and mild criticism spoke volumes. “You know her well?”
“We go back a ways. She and my father were friends and associates. Her daughter, Penelope, is Brock’s wife.”
“I didn’t know that.” She had watched President Aaron on the news feeds as well. She wielded a lot of influence, which made her one of the more powerful planetary leaders.
“Mikala has set up some private one-on-ones with a select few, in hopes of swaying votes,” he said.
She frowned. “Votes on what?”
“Whether to take a decisive stand against terrorism.”
“That shouldn’t be such a hard sell. Who wouldn’t be against terrorism?”
His bark of laughter fell short of amused. “Sounds logical, doesn’t it? In this case, a decisive stand translates to military action, declaration of war against Lamis-Odg. The AOP has released policy statements condemning terrorism and issued advisories against traveling in the most dangerous sectors of the galaxy, but insists the crisis can be solved through negotiation and diplomacy.”
Beth blinked, amazed by what he was telling her—not the information itself, but that he chose to share it. She realized she’d been isolated from high-level projects. Thus far, she’d worked on two cases: a regional sporting event and a has-been celebrity entertainer’s comeback tour.
“You don’t think it can?” she asked. “Be solved diplomatically, I mean.”
“How do you negotiate with terrorists? Lamis-Odg won’t cease setting off MEDs and killing people because an AOP ambassador says, ‘Pretty please, will you stop?’ Lamani intends to conquer the galaxy. Nothing short of victory will satisfy him.”
“So why hasn’t the AOP done something?”
“Because of a policy stating all life forms have a right to exist. Well, they don’t.”
“That’s pretty much the way the O’Sheas see it.” They would have revoked her right to exist if they could have. She lowered her gaze to her lap to hide unexpected tears.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” He dropped to his haunches.
“It’s all right. I understand.” She couldn’t look at him.
He swore. “No, it’s not all right. Hey…” He tucked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face. “Whether you were born or bio-engineered in a tank, you’re human. Period. I wish—” He shook his head. “There is so much I can’t share yet, may never be able to tell you. But, I wasn’t referring to you or any clone. Lamis-Odg are terrorists. They kill people because they can. The only way to stop them is by force.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a little sensitive.” She had to stop taking everything so personally. She’d emerged from the maturation tank with a need to be loved, an ache to belong, but after she’d failed the trial period, Georgetta hadn’t held back.
You’re not our daughter. You’re just a bio-engineered organic unit.
We’re having guests. Stay out of sight.
You’re the biggest mistake we ever made.
Carter raked his hand through his hair. Hard masculinity turned boyishly uncertain for an instant, and her breath caught in her throat. His smell and warmth enveloped her, and she recognized the scent as the same cleansing wash she used—except, on him, it smelled different. Better. He must live at Aym-Sec, too, she realized.
Electronic book smarts, yeah, she had that. She was exceedingly educated. There were no lettered degrees after her name—no legitimate ones, anyway—but exercising her mind had given her something to do, and once the O’Sheas realized her education could be their ticket to freedom from their folly, they’d supported her endeavor, but there was so much more to life for which she was unprepared. What did you do when an attractive man caused a riot within your body? When he made you want?
“Did you drop in to say hello, or do you have an assignment for me?” she asked, her question more abrupt than she’d intended.
He stood and stepped back, putting distance between them. It was for the best, but she missed the closeness. “I do have an assignment for you,” he said. “I’ll be meeting with Mikala at Luna Center, too.”
The pang of disappointment that his visit was business oriented and not personal was followed by a sharper self-rebuke. I have to stop reacting like this! He’s the boss. Nothing more. Thank the personnel department she worked for Brock and not Carter directly. Too frequent contact would fuel ideas she shouldn’t be having.
“And you need equipment?”
“I want you to go with me.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’ll coordinate the final logistical details for the Summit, and you should scope out the site. As good as holograms and virtual reality are, they don’t replace seeing the real thing.”
Kind of like her autodidactic education was no substitute for experience. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. The trip to the moon will take a few hours via shuttle, but be prepared to stay overnight. Let’s meet in the employee mess at 08:00.”
He left, but her heart continued to race. She’d be alone with Carter. She hoped she wouldn’t say or do anything stupid.