Rubicon, page 22
She blinked at it for a few seconds. It was a notification that her appointment with the psychologist had been canceled.
Apparently, her “special assignment” posting had been accepted.
* * *
Adriene made peace with chronic sleep deprivation and left her room for the quiet corridors. Her stomach swam with nerves by the time she arrived at the entrance to Intel Command, then pressed the control pad.
It blurted a negative tone and flashed red.
She tried again—same outcome. Leaning in, she frowned as she inspected the featureless pad for some kind of door chime feature.
The squeak of boots sounded from down the hall, an irregular cadence to the footsteps. She turned to find Major West approaching, a slight limp to his long-legged strides. His cybernetics gleamed in the wash of bright corridor lights.
“Sergeant,” he said by way of greeting, inclining his head as he halted at the door. “Welcome to the Intelligence team.”
Her expression slackened, a strange, airy sensation filling her chest. “I take it that means Commodore Thurston signed off?”
“Indeed,” he confirmed. “It was even easier than I’d thought. You came with a glowing recommendation from his sister-in-law.”
Adriene cocked her head. Champlan was Thurston’s sister-in-law?
West swiped his real hand over the control pad, and the door slid open. Adriene squinted as she entered, gaze drifting up to the tall ceilings, overhead diodes aglow. The room felt far less intimidating with all the lights on.
Major West headed toward his cluttered workstation along the back wall. She followed, winding through the maze of counters while eyeing the vacant, seemingly untouched workstations. “Sir … Does anyone else work here?”
“Not presently,” he intoned, and left it at that as he approached his desk, mechanical hand glinting in the light while powering on a selection of screens and data drives. He expanded a trio of holographic displays.
Adriene remained a few meters back. She watched West as he worked, both hands moving fluidly across the screens, though his mechanical fingers tremored lightly. She squinted at his cybernetic arm, then crept a few steps forward to get a closer look.
Plated with brushed steel, each polygon plane of the forearm caught the light differently. The limb’s rigid surface angled together to form the approximation of real, if not too-lean, muscle. The rolled sleeve of his light gray uniform came to just below his elbow, so she couldn’t tell if it featured exposed joints—fully open to the gears and wiring as so many were—or if he’d opted for one of the more expensive models that hid the insides from view.
Her gaze lifted to get a closer look at his facial graft next, but her breath hitched when she caught his single hazel eye staring back at her.
She diverted her gaze. “Uh, sorry, sir.”
“You’re wondering why I haven’t rezoned,” he surmised, much more statement than question.
Her shoulders rolled down, and she gripped her hands together behind her back. “It’s not my place, sir.”
“I had been augmented for over sixteen years at the time rezone technology came about.” The fingers of his metal hand jittered as he pushed aside a stray data core and picked up a palm-sized tablet. “After so long, I felt it would be more challenging to revert than to continue with what I’d already grown used to.” His words were rote; she got the feeling it was a recurrent answer. He looked up and met her eye. “Also, I have not heard favorable things about the experience.”
Adriene worried at her bottom lip. “Yeah … You’re not wrong.”
Asking for details seemed impertinent, so she stood back and waited while West continued to enter data.
Regardless, her brain worked out the math all too easily: sixteen years plus four since the invention of rezone technology meant his injuries had happened around the time of first contact and the Brownout. When for months, endless bloody battles had broken out between CNEF and Mechan forces. During that stretch of time, the Mechan didn’t take prisoners. If West had sustained his injuries during one of those engagements, the fact he’d walked away at all—even half of him—was remarkable.
West stepped idly in her direction while working on the small tablet. “There are some factors of your upcoming mission we need to discuss. But first…” He held the tablet out toward her.
She took it, gaze hanging on West briefly before dropping to the screen.
A document full of dense text stared back at her. She scrolled down, recognizing the formatting and abundant legalese. It looked much like her enlistment contract.
“A contract annex,” West rumbled. “That is a secure tablet, which will only open to your bios. Take your time reading it, sign when you’re ready, then return the tablet to me. As mentioned, we’re still on blackouts, but I’ll get it to HRC as soon as possible.”
Adriene nodded. “Understood, sir. Thank you.”
“Obviously, that will not occur prior to the forthcoming mission. Are you amenable to proceeding regardless?”
She cleared her throat, locking the tablet and pocketing it. “Yes, sir. No trouble.”
West paced back to the console. She followed.
He activated a monitor and began to tap through menus. “For this operation, I’ll need to make some … modifications to your directives.”
Crossing her arms, she leaned a hip against the counter. “This has to do with the intel we’re meant to retrieve?”
“Correct. The hard drive you will be supplied with will unduly encrypt the data you are to extract.”
She watched him work for a few long moments. She wasn’t entirely sure what “unduly” meant in this context. Encryption of appropriated data assets was standard procedure. In the 803rd, they’d called the devices “keystones.” Purpose-built field hard drives laden with all kinds of automatic control checks to safeguard from whatever cyber-related hazards might come along with automated defenses. Or even just technological incompatibilities.
West continued, still focused on the monitor, “Under everyday circumstances, it is an understandable enough precaution. A protocol that, as we discussed, the commodore is beholden to. The method, however, destroys as much as it protects. Data could be truncated, potentially losing database cohesion as a whole, rendering your efforts moot.”
“So, you want me to forgo the protocol? Skip the encryption?”
“Correct.”
She cleared her throat. “Very well, sir … but—to be clear—you want me to download, then bring back on board the Aurora, a server’s worth of Mechan data unencrypted?”
“Hopefully not Mechan,” he mumbled breathily as he tapped on the monitor.
Adriene quirked a brow, but any question she could muster was drowned out with a flash of white and a steady reassurance filling the back of her skull.
// Welcome to Rubicon. //
She squinted as the sharp black-or-white lines of the HUD overlaid her vision. A wave of heat flushed up her neck, heart speeding at the warm, calm voice.
// Vitals elevated. No external threats detected. //
“Uh, sir,” she said, voice wavering, “my Rubicon—did you do that?”
“Yes. I am transferring an execution code to your implant. It will remotely forgo the encryption requirements while maintaining any offensive measures required to circumvent firewalls and the like.”
// Incoming file detected. Accept transfer? //
Yes, accept it.
// Download complete. //
West tapped the tablet again, and her HUD disappeared in a burst of white. The empty void at the base of her skull returned.
“How’s the program work?” she asked.
West deactivated the monitor and turned to face her. “Only one requirement: be within handshake range of your team’s engineer when initiating the keystone. Your Rubicon will deploy it automatically.”
Her brow furrowed. “Sorry, sir, but—you’re sure this is safe? We won’t be making Flintlock vulnerable to attack?”
He dipped his chin. “It is safe, Sergeant. You needn’t worry, I will take every necessary precaution on my end when processing the data.”
“What about the other squads? Will they have access to this as well?”
West shook his head. “The other teams will use the standard procedure. This method requires upgraded Rubicon capabilities.”
Adriene gave a short nod of acceptance.
West tilted his head, seeming to notice the hesitation in her tight expression. “It does not mean their efforts will be in vain, Sergeant.” His tone took on a palliative edge. “It simply means you and your teammates will have a few … advantages.”
“A few?” she asked. “What else?”
“I have singled out the most viable location. Major Blackwell attempted to give this primary site to his … Stormwalkers.” His lips twisted as if he’d tasted something sour. “But I have amended the assignments. Your team’s location is the most likely to be fruitful, as is your method of extraction.”
She blew out a slow breath. “Understood, sir.”
“Additionally, I expect a full report directly upon your return. Regardless of any debriefing with Major Blackwell.”
“We’re still keeping him out of it?”
“For the time being, yes.” West took a step forward, and she uncrossed her arms, chin rising to meet his gaze. He locked eyes with her, expression cut from stone. “I need you to be successful, Sergeant.”
She lifted her chin. “Of course, sir.”
“This is about more than retrieving needed intelligence.”
Her brow furrowed. “How do you mean, sir?”
“You proved yourself on Cimarosa-IV, but that will only get you so far, and I only have so much influence over combat operations. The more clout you earn, the easier it will be for me to involve you and your team in the missions we need you on.”
She nodded slowly as his meaning sank in. So West could convince Major Blackwell that their methodical, primarily noncombat niche reconnaissance squad remained worthy of carrying out primary missions. West likely had a hand in Forward Recon even being on this op to start with.
“I understand.” She cleared her throat, mustering an additional bout of strength to inject into her next words. “I will not let you down, sir.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Adriene’s teeth rattled as the dropship shook beneath her.
Her suit had protected her from the worst of a massive ion front they couldn’t avoid, but she’d given herself a headache from clenching her jaw too tight and tensing her muscles to curb the endless jittering. The ship jerked, and Adriene pressed her head into the seat back until the violent shaking receded into a low shudder.
Gallagher had taken the helm again, and Brigham sat copilot. Kato snoozed in the troop seat beside Adriene, snoring quietly, head bouncing. She had no idea how he could sleep through all the turbulence.
The incessant rumbling finally slowed, and she sighed with relief. Her stomach lurched, and for once, she welcomed the discomfort of exiting subspace, as the turbulence ended along with it.
“Exit complete,” Gallagher said. “Systems nominal. Radar’s clear. Discharging buildup.”
Gallagher tapped the shield controls, expelling the accumulated static energy, then the overhead lights flickered and the viewscreens reset.
“Copy…” Brigham drawled, then turned suddenly and barked, “Sergeant Kato—”
Kato startled awake, gasping for breath.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Brigham said. “Care to join us?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Kato mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and turning to Adriene. “How long was I out?”
“Well, we’re here,” Adriene said, rolling her neck to sieve the tension from her muscles. “So … the whole time.”
“Damn.” Kato yawned.
“Stay put a sec, guys.” Gallagher stiffly swept through a few screens. “We gotta cruise in a bit farther. Storm interference put us a little off coords.”
“Aw, pops,” Kato whined, “why’d ya go and rouse me early?”
Brigham muttered, “I swear on Mira’s fiery ashes, Lian…” but remained focused on his copilot screens.
“At least give me Rubie,” Kato pleaded. “Yer boy needs his mornin’ cocktail.”
Brigham rolled his eyes. “If you’ll quit whining, then fine.” He tapped a screen, then called over his shoulder, “Activating Rubicons.”
Adriene sucked in a long breath. She’d been waiting for this. She had questions she wanted answered.
Her vision whitened, HUD flickering on. She welcomed the mellow rush of fullness as the gap in the back of her brain filled.
// Welcome to Rubicon. //
Despite her best efforts to remain composed, her heartbeat spiked.
// Vitals elevated. No external threats detected. //
That’s because it’s not external.
// Please, do not be afraid of me. //
I’m not afraid of you.
// Remember, I can read your thoughts. //
Then stop.
// I literally cannot do that. //
Sweat beaded on her palms, but her suit wicked it away before she could wipe it off.
And how’s that fair? I can’t keep anything from you, but you can lie to my face?
// Which lie are you speaking of? //
“Mira’s ashes…” she mumbled under her breath. How often, exactly, have you lied?
// Clarity requested: We are including “lie by omission” in our current definition of “lie”? //
Fucking hell. Do not say, “Syntax error,” I swear—
// I said nothing. //
Adriene drew another purposeful breath in through her nose, slackening her tight jaw and hunched shoulders, channeling patience.
Yes. Lies by omission are still lies. But I’m talking about just good ol’ regular lying too. You even lied about being able to lie. Which is fucking fantastic, by the way.
// I will add that to the sarcasm array. //
By all means.
// I understand you believe that I have erred, but please know, I exist to keep you safe. It is in your best interest to trust me. //
Which is exactly why you should reciprocate. How am I supposed to trust you if you lie to me?
It didn’t respond at first, and with a hitch in her breath, Adriene realized it’d hesitated. Like it had to consider what response it wanted to give.
// I am sorry I lied to you. //
She sat unmoving, unsure she’d heard it right.
// You are right. Trust requires reciprocity. I should not expect from you what I am not willing to offer myself. //
An icy shiver ran down her back. The VI—AI—whatever—sounded the same as it always had: a comfortably low, smooth-edged, dulcet tone. But something felt different. It spoke with more intent. Less confinement, more confidence.
// I will not lie to you again. //
Um, okay. Thank you.
// You are welcome. You have additional concerns. //
Yeah … When I asked about administrator permissions, why didn’t you tell me about Major West?
// Because it was the objectively safest option not to. //
What? Why?
// Because I could not compute what you might do with that information. There were too many variables. //
Are you connected to him now? Can he hear us?
// No. I am connected to no one but you. //
How do I know you’re not still lying?
// You do not. You will have to trust me. //
I want to.
// I know. //
A faint pressure tugged on Adriene’s ribs. She refocused outward, glancing toward the cockpit. On the main viewscreen, a far-off silver-streaked glimmer stained the inky backdrop.
“Target on-screen,” Gallagher announced.
Brigham entwined his hands and stretched his arms high above his head, letting out a resounding sigh. “Let’s get in close enough to check overwatch, nice and quiet.”
“Copy, tiptoe,” Gallagher replied.
Adriene glanced at Kato beside her. His eyes were closed, and he smiled contentedly, enjoying the results of his stim cocktail. He hummed a soft melody—an old Provan tune she recognized, though the lyrics escaped her.
// May we discuss something? //
Go ahead.
// The altercation that occurred the night before last. //
The fight with the Stormwalkers?
// Yes. You experienced a cerebral suspension. //
A … what?
// It seemed to be a combination of a “freeze” and “fright” response. //
Oddly enough, that doesn’t help me understand. I thought you could read my mind?
// I have found you prefer to interface in this manner. //
I never told you that.
// No, but you’ve repeatedly responded negatively when I act on indirect or implied thought processes. After tracing physiological feedback over the course of time—//
She scowled. We just met.
// I am a quick study. //
I get that impression.
// The specific incident I refer to occurred when one of your assailants attempted to strike you with a bottle of alcohol. //
Adriene blinked away the flash of a molten, obsidian crucible.
// Yes, that. //
She shifted against the constraints of her magnetized seat, to no avail.
Yeah, I remember.
// You reacted similarly once during your previous mission as well. //
She let out a heavy sigh through a strain in her chest.
Is there a question?
// I do not understand the correlation between the two incidents. During the mission, you collated the circumstances of a forthcoming combat situation and drew the conclusion that you needed to zero out. During the interpersonal altercation, in response to an attack, you experienced a brief, reflexive visualization of a previous trauma. Yet your vitals indicated an almost identical psychosomatic response to both. The former, predicated on assumption; the latter, predicated on experience. //
Again, she futilely attempted to reposition, overcome by a sudden sense of confinement and claustrophobia.
