Provenance I - Flee The Bonds (12 page)

Dee descended from the roof and followed the perimeter path to the entrance. Steve waited outside, the rusty locking chain hanging from his hand. ‘All done?’

‘Yep.’

‘Good. I want you to lead the exercise.’

Dee faked a smile. ‘Okay, sure.’
Great, another test
.

14:02 MON 23:10:2119

TF 16, Hampshire, England, Sector 2

Francois raised his mug. ‘Would you like coffee?’

Steve sat down at the kitchen table opposite Kacee. ‘Yes, thanks. Where’s Bo?’

He noted Steve did not mention Morton. ‘Bo and Morton prepare for weapon practise.’ He filled Steve’s cup from the metal carafe.

Kacee took a sip. ‘This coffee’s fantastic.’

Francois’s pride smiled. ‘It is from the last roasting house in Bordeaux, ‘
Esmeralda Gesha’
from Panama, very rare, very expensive.’

Steve looked down. ‘I’m sure it is. Any chance of some milk?’

Dee arrived and flopped down next to Steve. ‘Coffee smells good.’

Steve raised his cup. ‘Panamanian.’

Francois pushed the carafe towards Dee. ‘Would you like milk also?’

‘No way.’ Dee slapped Steve’s back. ‘It’s only these Brits that can’t handle it.’

A fusillade of gunfire rattled the windows. Only Steve did not react. ‘After fire practice, Francois and I have to go through the kit list.’ He smiled at Dee. ‘So I won’t have time to prep the veg for dinner.’

Fifteen minutes later chair legs scraped against the kitchen’s tiled floor. Francois collected the cups and walked to the sink. His curiosity slid right. Kacee placed a hand on Steve’s arm and her smile conveyed more than amiability.
Her attraction to Steve will prove useful.

‘Can you make some time for me today? I’d like to start your EV before tonight’s exercise.’

Francois’s gaze intensified. He detected a superficial change in Steve, an ephemeral fissure in the sang-froid exterior.

Steve recovered with a smile. ‘Of course, no problem. Is sixteen-thirty okay?’

‘Your room or mine?’

‘I think the lounge would be better, more space, fewer roly-polys.’

‘Sure, fine.’

Francois noted resignation pull on Kacee’s shoulders as she followed Steve towards the door.

Through the narrow panes of the kitchen’s mullioned window, he watched Steve and Kacee stroll across the courtyard towards Bo, Dee and Morton. Each of them was a piece on Francois’s chessboard and all but one a pawn.

With his menial housekeeping duties complete, Francois exited the farmhouse. Across the weed-infested cobbles Bo stood with his back to the decrepit stable block, pointing down to a matt black APR-32 resting on its tripod. Everyone else had gathered in a semi-circle to his front.

As Francois approached, Bo’s words became clearer. ‘The modifications are better, yes? Now we can fire on the move.’ Bo snatched up the fifteen-kilogram weapon by the carrying handle and held it in the low-ready position.

Steve turned to face them. ‘Only Bo or Dee are to carry the APR.’

Bo protested. ‘The new power pack is half the weight. I have made many changes, it is lighter now.’ He offered the weapon by the carrying handle, which Steve accepted with both hands. Francois’s chest swelled, the APR-32 rail gun was an excellent weapon. It should be; SIS had given
Thibeauchet Technologie
a licence to manufacture it.

Steve turned the weapon on its side. ‘It’s still too heavy.’

Francois’s gaze fell to the battery pack. The creation of hyperlon had led to the rapid advancement of inertial confinement fusion. An ICF battery powered the APR and, thanks to SIS,
Thibeauchet Technologie
owned the patents. He pointed at the battery pack. ‘It is new, developed at the factory of my family.’

Steve looked up. ‘Nice work.’ His compliment appeared genuine, and magnanimous. Francois lowered his head in a gesture of respect.

Steve returned the APR. ‘Great work Bo, but it’s not mission ready. Get it down to ten kilos and I’ll make sure it’s approved. In the meantime let’s see what it can do.’

Francois stared at their Commander. Steve had managed to reject, encourage and motivate in a single sentence. He hoped Steve would one day join him.

Bo’s grin returned. ‘Gentlemens, and lady. APR thirty-two fires nineteen-millimetre armour piercing and incendiary. Muzzle velocity is four thousand metres a second and it has a sight range of five thousand metres.’ He pointed down. ‘This one is fitted with Zenzeiss all-weather target acquirer.’

Francois tracked the APR’s line-of-sight. It ran parallel with the stables for twenty metres before entering the abandoned tack room. A wooden railway sleeper leant against the back wall.

Steve reached into his top pocket. ‘Plugs in.’

Francois watched Kacee press her long slender fingers against her ears. When Steve threw her a packet of plugs, she thanked him with one of those smiles.

Bo lay behind the APR and lowered his head to the sight. ‘You know what the APR can do over long distance, but it is useful also in close support.’ The safety catch clicked and the APR began to whirr.

Francois knew this weapon well. Inside the barrel, liquid nitrogen circulated rotating alloy rails. The rails spun as fast as a turbine, the noise suppressed by magnetic bearings. A few microseconds after Bo squeezed the trigger the capacitor discharged four million
ampères
.

The armour-piercing projectile hit the railway sleeper before any sound. A split second later the shockwave exploded in the confines of the courtyard, it resonated off the buildings and pounded inside Francois’s chest.

Through blinking eyes, he watched the tack room roof collapse; the sleeper had disappeared and as the dust settled, the grass field appeared through the back wall. Francois nodded approval. No Prefect could withstand that. He made a mental note to transfer Bo’s credits.

Dee’s head bobbed. ‘Now that’s what I call a modification. Was that door there already?’

Steve massaged his temple. ‘It’s okay for you; you don’t have to explain the alterations to the wardens.’ He leant down and tapped Bo on the shoulder. ‘Make safe and let’s check the damage.’

Weapons training continued for another thirty minutes
and concluded with a timed contest to reload a Cogent’s plasma cell. Francois was sure Steve had allowed himself to be beaten.

Afterwards, they returned to the farmhouse and Francois joined the others in the lounge. Steve had agreed to Morton’s request for phase suit training.

Bo stood in front of the fireplace adjusting Morton’s helmet. ‘It is full phase with multi-adaptive vision and integrated comms.’

Morton rested his hand on the sleeve. ‘Why is the suit cold?’

Dee answered. ‘It absorbs and bends light. It’s been designed for new world recon, in case we discover the folks we’re about to kick out have bigger guns.’

Bo slid down the visor. ‘Through visor, active phase suits blue, don’t shoot at them, everything else okay. Look up inside helmet. Left side, three green lights. In middle chronometer. Right side, three blue lights.’

‘I see them.’

‘First, green lights. Triangle air supply, circle contamination, and square phase. Green, okay. Orange, not so bad. Red — not so good.’

‘Understood.’

‘Now blue lights, all I-CON, look on, blink off. Standard CONSEC icons, radio, display, and uplink connect. Okay, now switch off radio.’

A few seconds passed before they heard Morton’s muffled response, ‘Done.’

Steve walked to the front of the lounge. ‘Well done, Bo, time to finish up. Francois and I have to go through the kit list.’

As the others packed up and left, Francois watched Steve watching Morton.
Perhaps he believes Morton is SIS. Excellent.

16:29 MON 23:10:2119

TF 16, Hampshire, England, Sector 2

Kacee knocked before poking her smile around the lounge door. ‘It’s four-thirty.’

Steve glanced at his MPS, ‘So it is, please, come in.’

She deliberately brushed past Francois and settled down opposite Steve.

His gaze followed Francois to the door. ‘Tell Dee you’ll take command tonight. Morton can take my place and I’ll observe.’

Francois smiled, perhaps too much.
‘Of course.
A toute à l’heure
.’
The door latch fell with a clunk.

Steve rose and arched his back, stretching the khaki T-shirt over his trim body. Kacee followed his stare to the closed door. ‘Why the disappointed look?’

He perched down on the edge of the settee. ‘I didn’t realise we’d started.’

‘Oh, and now defensive.’ Something about Francois bothered him.
Get to the back of the line.

Kacee opened her MCD and flashed a smile. ‘You know the drill, sit back and relax. This is a PSYOPS Advanced Leadership Evaluation, we’ll do part one here and the second part at Central.’

Every time she mentioned the EV, it triggered a fear response in him.

‘Tell me about Jason.’

Steve leant back. ‘Jason was a first rate Advocate, well liked, respected, a professional.’

She knew he’d be aware of the reason for asking, his sanitised response confirmed it.

‘And now he’s gone.’

‘Yes, now he’s gone.’

‘Do you have any animosity towards those who killed him?’

‘Animosity? No.’

His equanimity remained, but that was a lie and tied in with previous PSYOPS assessments. Steve had a latent vengeful trait. ‘Why not?’

‘Jason died protecting Continuity, doing his duty. Advocates can’t afford the luxury of sentiment, it corrupts, distracts.’

Now he was quoting from the manual. Every Advocate underwent emotional conditioning. The Council didn’t want them dwelling on the ethics of their duties. It had proved effective for ninety-nine percent of the candidates; she suspected Steve belonged to the other one percent.

‘Are you willing to die for Continuity?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Continuity represents the only hope for the human race, without Continuity humanity won’t survive.’

Still quoting from the manual.

‘Are you willing to die for Continuity?’

His brow furrowed. ‘Didn’t you just ask me that?’

‘Yes, and you gave me the answer of every cadet taking the CONSEC entrance exam.’

‘Okay. If Continuity fails, I’ve failed. I want my life to have meaning.’

‘You’d defend Continuity at any cost?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure?’

His eyes rolled. ‘Okay let’s hear it.’

She smiled, leant across the table and touched his knee. ‘I’m not your enemy Steve, not at all.’

A tap on her MCD opened his file. ‘In your last two EVs your compassion facet was above the norm. That isn’t a problem,
until
it relates to an Advocate Commander. Central believes you may care too much about something — or someone.’

‘I don’t know why they’d think that.’

Another lie.
Perhaps it was Jason. According to Central, the only thing they didn’t share was a toothbrush. ‘You were close to Jason. Like brothers.’

He just managed to avoid crossing his arms. ‘Friendship isn’t a crime, not yet anyway.’

‘How do you feel about the Resistance?’

‘They’re a threat to everybody.’

‘Do you want to avenge Jason’s death?’

‘I want to find those responsible.’

‘And kill them?’

‘I’m not SIS.’

Kacee’s gaze dropped to the MCD. He’d used a truism to avoid a direct answer. His twin brother had died in a childhood accident; perhaps he’d used Jason as a surrogate. Which could mean his vengeance for Jason’s death was a manifestation of compassion — or culpability for his brother.

She could detect a lie through body language alone, but SIS wanted her to record his responses to the next questions. A facial thermogram would do that. She tapped the MCD. Steve picked up the bottle of chilled water and took a mouthful.
Nice try
. Although it did confirm he had something to hide.

She held up the MCD so it obscured his face. ‘Are you a member of the Resistance?’

‘What?’

‘Please Steve, yes or no.’

‘No!’

That’s true.
‘Do you believe someone is protecting you?’

‘No.’

Borderline.
‘Do you believe you’re unique?’

‘No.’

Borderline.
Kacee tapped the screen; she didn’t want this recorded.

‘Are you going to apply for Citadel?’

‘No.’

True.
‘Are you in a personal relationship with someone you love?’

He swallowed the water. It was an old trick, and it still didn’t work.

‘No.’

That was a lie and confirmed why he didn’t want to join the other Advocates in cryostasis. Disappointing, but not surprising.

She lowered the MCD and smiled away the tension. ‘That’s a pass.’

‘Odd set of questions.’

She shrugged. ‘I just get to ask them.’

Kacee wanted to change direction. Steve made an interesting subject, way beyond the physical. ‘Rumour has it the Resistance have sabotaged Provenance’s engines.’

He quashed that with a headshake. ‘Even if they could get upstairs, I doubt they’d know about sequencing.’

‘Sequencing?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you really want to know?’

‘Sure.’ She still had no idea why SIS were interested in him.

‘Okay. Provenance’s beam core drives use anti-matter derived from rods of anti-hydrogen. The resultant pions produce the thrust, and magnetic coils regulate the annihilation, which in turn regulates the thrust. Because the rods have differing atomic weights and the length of the ejected muons has to be identical, critical mass can only occur when the rods enter the magnetic field in a specific sequence. The computations for the synchronisation rely on a sequence code, which in reality is just a big number.’

Kacee had lost it halfway through the second sentence. ‘So why can’t they recalculate the sequence?’

Steve captivated her with a gracious smile. ‘I’m sure they’ve tried, but the code is the basis for the computations, without it they don’t know where to start.’