A Dragon at the Gate (The New Aeneid Cycle Book 3) (10 page)

Though she didn’t say it, she was glad Marc had been here during the Undernet surge. It had killed every AoA member who’d been using a neural link to attend what they now knew to be a faked emergency meeting. Marc, along with the other AoA on the Moon, had been too far away to connect. Councilor Ramis, with whom Marc had worked before, was in an Earthbound spaceport on his way to the Moon when the incident occurred. Security found him dead at the gate where his flight was boarding.

Marc sat against the edge of the conference table, hands in his pockets, looking toward the floor. “You know, we never did figure out what that little spider-bot that snagged the data leech was trying to do. Not for sure.”

“We’ve been over this, Marc. You studied it yourself. So did others.”

The intelligence that corrupted the base’s computer core had taken ninety minutes to worm itself into place. That was far more time than the robot held the leech. Even if that were not the case, it had been constructed of terrestrial components that lacked the storage capacity necessary to hold what had usurped the core.

“It wouldn’t be the first time we underestimated it.”

Her jaw tightened. “We monitored Earth’s Internet for evidence of this. We scrutinized Adrian Fagles’s Net traffic, looked for any sign that—”

“What if we missed something? What if wherever the leech went was on an isolated network we couldn’t access?”

“Then it couldn’t have gotten out—”

“Yes, it could!” He shouted. It made her jump.

Though she hardened her gaze, she knew he was right. It might have found a way.

It was a possibility she and the remaining AoA had already acknowledged, even if not all wished to admit it to themselves.

The conference room door slid open to admit Councilor Marla Knapp, sparing Marette the need to respond. The only Agents of Aeneas Council member to survive the surge, she had also been the Council’s eldest. Short hair gone to gray framed a round face that featured far more frown lines than appeared natural for someone of her sixty-plus years, yet far too few to those who knew her. A gold chain dangled from her right ear, its other end attached to the decorative plug at her temple. The plug covered the port of the neural link that would have killed her, were she not already on the Moon when the surge had hit.

“Ms. Clarion,” she said in greeting as Marc stood up from where he was leaning on the table. “Marette. It’s a pleasure to see you’ve made it back to us.” The corners of her lips turned upward in a thin smile that was, in Marette’s experience, as much genuine joy as Knapp ever let show. “I trust you had no trouble?”

Marette gave a smile of her own that she hoped would suffice for a return of pleasantries and then added, “None worth reporting. Knapp Aerospace continues to be a valuable asset for the AoA.”

“Thank providence we still have a few valuable assets left to us.” Knapp turned to Marc. “Mister Triton, I believe Dr. Sheridan awaits your help in Primary Control.”

“Ah. Thanks, Councilor. Marette?” He waved and moved for the door. With a glance back and a smile that only barely eclipsed Knapp’s, he added, “I’ll see you around.”

Marette turned her attention to Knapp when he’d gone and took a seat at the table in response to her invitation.

“I’m here to bring you a report on the external situation,” Marette began. She took a breath. “And to recommend another personnel transfer to
Omicron
.”

“For whom?”

“For myself.”

An air of concern flashed across Knapp’s face. “In that case, I expect I should hear your report first.”

Marette gave an account of the developments of which she had spoken to Marc, with greater detail of the events themselves but with no more in the way of available explanation. Knapp listened in silence. Her brows furrowed with every new detail. On occasion, she would take a deeper breath while her eyes drifted, as if weighing a specific point.

“What is more,” Marette went on, “without the Undernet to help us coordinate, the stealth protocols hiding AoA comm traffic with Omicron are deteriorating, even with minimal usage. Those of us still operating in ESA are doing what we can to maintain it, but we lack resources to do more than delay the process. I recommend we continue at our current restricted comm levels. We should conduct as much communication as possible via physical courier on the supply shuttles instead.”

“And how long before we can no longer hide shuttle traffic?”

“Assuming no further complications?”

Knapp pursed her lips. “Only a simpleton assumes no complications.”

“As things stand now then, if you prefer,” Marette said. “Two months, at the most. If you leave Omicron to help re-coordinate with your company, perhaps three.”

“I am not the only one within Knapp Aerospace with ties to the AoA, Agent Clarion.”

“But the only one with the surname of Knapp. You have a flair for making things happen, would you not agree?” Knapp was being defensive. Did she think Marette was trying to push her out? “Your absence from Omicron need not be permanent. I have analysis reports outlining ways in which you might be able to expedite matters.”

“And with everything that’s occurred—this ESA sabotage, the surge, the increasing communications troubles—you think it wise for you to return to Omicron?”

“I am not certain I follow your reasoning,” Marette said.

“Despite the progress we have made here toward the Exodus Project, we still need agents outside, especially in light of these events. You are highly placed in ESA, Agent Clarion. We need you to remain so.”

“I was at Alpha Station to monitor ESA’s investigation,” Marette pressed, speaking of ESA’s primary lunar base. When the AoA had faked Omicron’s destruction to force ESA’s evacuation of the site, preventing ESA from learning the truth had been vital. As the ESA site leader during the evacuation, Marette was ESA’s choice to determine whether they could salvage anything from the “destroyed” base. It had given her the unique opportunity to keep things hidden. “Now that the investigation is complete, I am of less use to us there. My position begins to suffer political damage from the loss of the base. But I was in charge here for six months. I am familiar with
Paragon
and our work here, perhaps more so than anyone.”

Knapp went to speak, but Marette cut her off. “I wish to be of as much use as possible; to resume my duty of helping unlock the secrets of
Paragon
; to help the AoA achieve its goals: escape the self-destruction of humanity on Earth; colonize another world for our own!” Marette became aware that she was now standing. She eased back down. “We have experienced greater setbacks than we could have imagined in the past months, yet we are closer to our goals than ever before. I do not wish for us to fall short. I do not wish for the lives lost to be in vain.”

Knapp’s gaze was dour, unreadable. Marette met it with her own and added, “I do not wish to be useless.”

A NEON BLUE GLOW
washed through the taxi’s windows. It heralded their arrival outside the building that housed Felix’s loft. All heads in the brief queue outside
Revelations
, the night club on the ground level, turned their way when the taxi came to a stop, but neither Caitlin, nor Michael, nor Jade held their attention as the queue resumed its flow toward the entrance.

Caitlin pulled her coat close around her as they waited for the driver to charge their fare. “If you two can find us a place in the club, I’ll find his laptop and bring it down.” Why did it seem a smaller violation for them to investigate Felix’s laptop outside his loft than in?

“Do you want us to come up with you?” Michael asked.

“English
is
my first language, Michael. If I did, I would have said so.” It came out harsher than she’d meant it. She opened the taxi door. “Just find us a table. I’ll be up and down in a tick.”

Her phone rang before Michael could respond. Gideon was returning her earlier message quicker than expected. Michael and Jade clambered out of the taxi behind her while Caitlin answered.

Gideon launched into the conversation with little preamble. “
How’s your boyfriend?
”

“Little change. I’m still worried.” She trotted toward the staircase clinging to the building’s exterior, which led to Felix’s home. “And Ondrea?”

Gideon’s sigh descended across the connection and dragged Caitlin’s hopes down with it. “
Nothing further,
” he said. “
Still away wherever she’s gone, doing whatever she’s doing. I should have heard more by now.
”

Caitlin reached the top of the stairs. If Ondrea told Gideon to tell Caitlin she was away, would he lie for her? “Have you investigated? Perhaps she’s in trouble.”

Gideon gave what almost sounded like a growl. “
No time. Marquand’s leash is short. They’ve kept me busy. The thought has entered my mind that it’s intentional.
”

“Ondrea felt confident her new employer could protect her from any Marquand retaliation, aye?”

“
And I’ve leased to Marquand whatever soul I have left to keep them from trying. I thought that would be enough. I thought. I’ve returned to Northgate for the moment. If Marquand doesn’t give me personal time I’ll take it for myself. If I learn anything, you’ll know.
”

Caitlin keyed into the building. “Thank you, Gideon.”

“
I owe you and Felix both.
” He seemed to hesitate. “
But answer me this: How different am I from the Gideon you knew before?
”

It was her turn to hesitate. “I’m not entirely certain how to answer that.”

“
Why?
”

“You’re different. But it’s not a bad thing. You’re more stable, more rational.”

“
I see.
” His reply didn’t hold the relief she’d expected to hear.

“I never knew you well, Gideon. Perhaps I’m not the best judge.” She stopped herself from asking how he felt to himself. She didn’t have time to explore it. Bollocks.

“
Well.
”

“Aye.” She reached Felix’s door. Gideon remained silent. “Gideon, I have to go for now. I’ll check in with you again soon, alright?”

“
I will find some answers. Something.
”

“I hope you do.”

Gideon hung up.

“So this Felix guy,” Jade shouted over the club’s music, “he seemed pretty okay when I talked with him.” They were seated at a table against the rear wall of the club’s mezzanine. Jade’s back was to the wall as she kept watch, and Michael mirrored her stance. She’d done no more when she spoke but lean Michael’s way and glance.

“Maybe,” Michael shouted back. “But how would you know if something was wrong? You didn’t know him before the hospital, did you?”

“No, I mean he seemed okay, like: a decent guy. Funny, crafty. Not the sort to shank a gal in the back. Talked you up, too.” She leaned in closer. “I just mean I think it’s good you’re helping him.”

“He is. And he’d do the same for me.” Really, Felix
had
done the same for him. When Michael’s life had shattered, Felix had taken him in. And he’d been trying to help Michael even before that.

“Worthy cause! You know, I’d be glad to pitch in on that one. Do a little sub-contracting.” She turned to catch his eye. “If you’re interested, that is.”

“You mean pay you?”

“Worthy cause or no, Mikey, I don’t do pro-bono. Personal rule.”

“Don’t call me Mikey.”

Jade only dazzled him with a grin and turned her attention back onto the room.

“You’re already getting paid to protect me,” Michael said. “So I guess you’ll be tagging along anyway.”

“Yeah, but that just makes my job harder, ace! Much easier if you’re not actively looking for dangerous situations.”

“You’ll have to take that one up with your employer,” he said. Would she really refuse to help if she wasn’t paid? “You don’t work for free? Ever? You see a stranger getting beat in an alley and just walk away?”

“Well, maybe whoever it is deserves it.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, do I? I could do more harm than good.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Okay, bad example. Say some woman comes to you looking beat up, dirty, crying, like she just escaped hell. She tells you her abusive husband, who’s locked her up in the basement for the last five years, is after her. You’re just going to do nothing unless she’s able to pay?”

Jade laughed. “Why stop there, Mister Hypothetical? Why not say he’s also a demon who’s kidnapped her baby and if she doesn’t get to Alaska by noon tomorrow, the oceans dry up and the Moon falls out of the sky?”

Michael turned to face her, as if he could hold her to the question with his stare. “One thing at a time. Answer.”

An enormous man with glowing orange tattoos across dark, muscled arms passed their table. Though sunglasses hid his eyes, he appeared to pay Jade and Michael no heed. Jade kept an eye on the man until he’d passed.

“I wouldn’t just turn my back on her, no,” Jade said finally. “But there’s others I know who do free work. You ever hear of a guy named Finley?” Michael shook his head. “He works free sometimes, and usually just gets a bunch of problems for his trouble. But I’d get her to someone like that, then wash my hands of the thing.”

Michael leaned back against the wall again. “Ah, so you do have a heart.”

“Well, sure. But here’s the thing, Mikey. Michael. How do I know for sure that woman is on the level? People—that’s People with a capital P—aren’t trustworthy. They’re liars, they screw things up, and they—” Her eyes blazed violet. She blinked it away with a scowl, still staring into the crowd, before she went on.

“You just can’t be too careful. Sure, there’re exceptions, but no one gets the benefit of the doubt right out of the box.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “But you already know that, right, Mister Don’t-You-Want-To-Know-Who-Hired-You?”

“That’s different.”

“Different sides, maybe, but the same coin.”

“But didn’t you say Felix seemed like a trustworthy guy just a minute ago?” Michael tried.

“Seemed, yeah. But like I said, ‘no free work’ is a personal rule. I have to draw the line somewhere, and that’s a nice, clean line.”