Читать книгу The Rift Coda - Amy Foster S. - Страница 12

Several hours later we are sitting at a large oval wooden table. Unlike many of the rustic pieces of furniture on the base, this one is polished with a slick lacquer that is so shiny I can see my face in its surface. I try to keep things as professional as possible given what happened the night before. The best way to do this is not to look too closely at Levi and Ezra. Denial will always work in a pinch.

I am sitting at one head of the table, the unofficial boss of the human race. I’m actually pleased to see Navaa at the other end. Maybe with two women in charge, communication will be front and center of these briefings. Navaa had very cleverly separated Ezra and Levi and seated them among the other Faida. If we are all to be on the same side, the three of us can’t be seen set apart from the rest.

This is a dark, lush room with a bluish light cascading down from the unusually low ceiling. The chairs are black leather with a slim column of padding for the back. It’s a highly functional piece of furniture for people with wings, but as for the rest of us … not so much. Still, the entire vibe of this space has a subdued elegance about it. This is a room meant for comfortable sequestration and I find this a bit surprising. Citadels aren’t supposed to ever get too comfortable. Then again, on our Earth, Citadels are only soldiers. But Arif had told us that on this Earth they are other things as well—doctors, engineers, diplomats. Considering that 60 percent of the Faida Citadels were annihilated, I’m not sure theirs is the better way to go.

A large, flat glass panel emerges from the center of the table. I notice again how they like to keep their technology hidden away, beneath panels, under floors. Perhaps the Faida, with their giant, glorious wings don’t like the reminder of what technology has done to them, or maybe they feel that it is somehow crass. Their posturing is disingenuous. There is only science here, all of it hard and none of it forgiving.

Navaa opens the meeting. She has an illuminated screen at her fingertips that she is using to control the images we are looking at on the panel in front of us. She brings up all seven of the Citadel races.

“Let’s begin with what we can safely assume are absolute facts,” she says with her usual air of authority with a dash of arrogance. “Ezra was able to bring us up to speed about his time on the original Roone Earth. Most of what he told us we already knew, but it was nice to hear that the original Roones want to stop their counterparts as badly as we do. Basically, what we are looking at is a game of numbers.”

“You mean, which of the Citadel races we can get to side with our cause,” Levi says. If he had any residual issues about the incident in my room, he left them outside this one. I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He’s not about to let what happened distract any of us from what’s truly important and by speaking up now, he’s proving the point.

“Exactly. So, the Spiradaels.” Images of the Spiradaels begin to pepper the glass in front of us. “Our team spent a considerable amount of time observing them and we have ruled that they are as brainwashed as the Settiku Hesh. It’s our conclusion they cannot be turned. Humans, do you concur?”

I don’t need to confer with my fellow humans to make a decision about this. Ezra, for all his knowledge of the Citadel races, never fought one or spoke to one. He never learned their language. Only Levi and I looked any of them in the eye and we had both agreed on this last night.

“We agree.”

“Good. Then let’s talk about the Orsalines,” Navaa says as she brings several photos and video footage up on the screen in front of us. I glance over at Ezra. I see that the interface below him has been activated as well. As Navaa speaks, lines form in an iridescent white on the table, just in Ezra’s eyeline. Somewhere in this room there is a mic and a translator hard at work. Not an actual person, but a program and I’m glad of it, because it means I don’t have to do it myself. I have to pay attention to what’s going on here and that requires all my focus.

Plus the idea of talking to Ezra right now makes my stomach roil.

“What you are looking at is over fifty-seven shrines that both our flyovers and the Roone drones have photographed. These are temples dedicated to the altered Roones. We knew they had cast themselves as deities, but we didn’t realize it was to the entire planet. Every Orsaline believes the altered Roones are their gods, not just the Citadels.”

I take a closer look at the “shrines,” squinting as I inspect them on the screen. They are massive multicolored spheres, clearly representing the bald heads of the altered Roones. Some are just three or four rocks in neat pile, while others are actual structures (of a sort) with doorways. The images show Orsalines making their way in and out of them with offerings of … rocks …

Typical.

“We made two recon trips before the sound blockade went up,” Sidra, head of the Faida’s intelligence unit, offers. She speaks with a lulling cadence. This must be muscle memory for her vocal cords. No doubt she’s been trained to keep people at ease, to get them to open up and offer their secrets. Torture really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes, all a person needs is to feel like they have someone who’s on their side, someone who understands. Sidra, with her pearly white wings and long curly ashy-blond locks is clearly that kind of operative. “The Orsalines were living in huts when the altered Roones arrived. They were given an origin story, a bible of sorts—they aren’t big readers. The Orsalines may or may not have been drugged, but they have most certainly been brainwashed. To go against an altered Roone would be akin to blasphemy.”

“Levi and I were worried about this; they’re zealots,” I chime in. “Extremists and extremely stupid. I still find it hard to believe that given the altered Roones’ MO that they would even waste their time genetically enhancing such an infantile race.”

“Sometimes it’s good to have foot soldiers,” Donav, the munitions officer says. “Put the dumb ones in front. Let them get the worst of it. But also see what kind of damage they can do—and these guys can do some serious damage. It’s a good way to make sure that your best soldiers survive.” Donav’s voice is a syrupy baritone. I could listen to him all day, mostly because he would be talking about guns and explosives. And also—cheekbones.

Seriously, with his red hair, he’s like an insanely hot Archie Andrews with Batman’s toys.

I force myself to respond to what he’s saying, and not what my mind is imagining.

“Right,” I say. “So my feeling is that if an entire race of people have proof—well, what they think is proof—of the divine, I don’t think that’s something we could shut down. Even if we got one and explained what was going on, I doubt they’d understand it.”

“That’s our assessment as well,” Navaa said, nodding. “An Orsaline alliance is not an option. So that makes two Citadel races solidly for the altered Roones.” There’s a clear thread of frustration running through her voice.

“So what about the Daithi? Did you ever send a recon team there?” I ask hopefully.

“We did, but the sound blockade went up before they could return home,” Sidra answers in that calm, almost seductive voice of hers. I keep the sigh I want to let go of locked inside my rib cage. That’s two teams they had out and they basically cut them off before even attempting a rescue. Not cool, angel people, not cool.

“However,” Navaa jumps in, “we do believe the Daithi are our best chance at an alliance. As you know from the research, which we’ve gained even more of since you shared Edo’s computer with us, the Daithi are not a technologically advanced race, but they are a conquered people.”

That’s not as impressive to me as it sounds like it is to Navaa—it only proves to me that the Daithi are easily subjugated.

“They put up a fight, Ryn,” Navaa says as if reading my mind. I sit up a little straighter in my chair. There are few images of the Daithi on the panel in front of me. What images do exist are tiny blurs, like a dark fingerprint getting in the way of a shot. They are fast, I’ll give them that.

“The altered Roones assumed they could be easily conquered, but it took months rather than days. They made strategic strikes and had the Settiku Hesh and altered Roones scrambling … all before they were ever given any Citadel enhancements,” Sidra adds.

“So you think we could get through to them?” Levi asks.

“I do believe that if we could get some of them alone and get the drug out of their system, then, yes, I think we have a very good chance,” Navaa says with confidence.

“We’d have to get one first. And they are fast. They’re like little bolts of lightning,” I tell her with obvious skepticism.

“But you’re faster,” Yessenia argues. She is the chief medical officer for the Faida Citadels, so I suppose she would have the most expertise on our biological differences. “All the human Citadels are.” I don’t bother telling her that she’s right. We are faster. The Daithi rely almost entirely on their speed. But we have a much larger toolbox, giving us both the advantage and disadvantage in that context—it’s the difference between a specialist and generalist.

Navaa clears her throat. “How we proceed in further negotiations is not why we’re here today. We’re here to come to a consensus on which Citadel races we try to ally with. We can figure out the how later. So do we agree that the Daithi are our best chance?”

“The human contingent agrees,” I offer, “but for the record, it’s not with the same amount of confidence you have.”

“Noted. Let’s move on to the Akshaji.”

The gruesome images of these Citadels come roaring onto the screen on the table. There is blood—not necessarily red, since not all species bleed crimson—against the shimmering purple of the Akshaj Citadels. The sinister pleasure they derive from killing is clear from these images. They don’t just shoot or stab. They gut, maim, disembowel, and rip limbs, all with a sly smirk of enjoyment. Ezra turns away and I understand. He isn’t built for this kind of violence. I am and it’s not like I’m enjoying any of this.

“Before you ask,” Sidra announces to the room diplomatically, but I know she’s talking to me, “we did send a team, well before the sound blockade went up, and they never returned. They never checked in after the first twenty-four hours. We thought it best given the already tense situation here that we not send another unit.”

“The Akshaji are unpredictable, mercurial, violent, and more mercenary than other Citadels. However, I think if we make a compelling enough argument, we could get them on our side,” Navaa says with a slight tilt of her head. One of her long strawberry locks falls onto her cheekbone and she sweeps it aside efficiently.

I absentmindedly fiddle with the zipper on my uniform. She might be right—and I’m not really sure she is, based on what I’ve seen—but even if she is, I’m not so sure I want anything to do with these animals. They are killers. Murderers. I can’t deny that I feel a certain amount of pleasure when I take out a particularly nasty hostile, but I don’t wear their entrails afterward like a necklace.

Levi has even more doubts. “Why would you think that?” he interjects. “Why would the Akshaji take sides in a war they don’t care about? Especially considering that, by all accounts, the altered Roones have been completely transparent with them.”

Good point. I fold my arms together, waiting for an answer from Navaa.

“I highly doubt the Akshaji know about the Midnight Protocol,” she says. “It would be easy to plant seeds of suspicion and doubt. They are as paranoid as they are violent.” I’m not sure if Navaa is overreaching here, but it does make a certain sense.

“So basically what you’re saying is we have to convince them that we are the stronger force and that eventually the altered Roones will turn on them,” I ask, double-checking to make sure we’re all on the same page.

“Exactly. It would be difficult, but not impossible. It is the Faida’s suggestion to this joint council that we seek an alliance with the Akshaji, the caveat being we bring the Daithi in before going to them.”

“Great. What’s our next step, then?”

“I propose we loop in Gomda.”

“Who’s that?”

“He heads up the team that’s in charge of deployment operations. Their sole job is to make sure that all soldiers have everything they need to survive on a mission, from provisions to ammo. Gomda and his staff are extremely thorough and I have no doubt that they will be able to help us mount an immediate and successful expedition to the Daithi Earth—”

“Wait.” I interrupt her again and she clenches her jaw ever so slightly.

I don’t want to run roughshod over her, so I choose my words carefully. Finally I say, “I’m impressed with the speed at which you feel comfortable deploying troops for a covert op. I also understand that time may be our biggest enemy here, but we have to go back to Battle Ground first. We need to check in with the people we left in charge, make sure Camp Bonneville is still in our control, and debrief them on everything we’ve learned.”

Both Levi and Ezra swing their heads around in my direction at the same time. I hadn’t discussed this with either one of them. But then again, I hadn’t even realized how badly it needed doing until I got to this room. We don’t have all the answers, not by a mile, but we have some of them. Beta Team needs to know what we know. We need the greatest tactical minds working on this problem, which most definitely includes my team and the rest of the higher-ranking human Citadel officers.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Navaa suggests rather haughtily. “If the altered Roones find you, this alliance will be over.”

“If ARC takes back Battle Ground, then the alliance is over anyway,” I say with a shrug. “Right now we control a single Rift and thousands of Citadels. If we lose that advantage, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. And you have to remember, humans don’t even know there are other species of Citadels, let alone that the Settiku Hesh are Roones and that the Roones are altered, too. They don’t know anything. Imagine a Spiradael unit coming through and acting compliant until the intake, inside the compound. Our people have no idea how many enemies are really out there, and I’m not about to leave them so exposed.”

Navaa puts her hands together, slender tapers that she squeezes tightly on the table in front of her. “If we lose you, we lose any chance of being able to Rift off this Earth safely, of forming alliances with other Citadels. At least take a strike unit of ours with you in case—”

“No way,” Levi jumps in. “If a Roone sees you, then we’re busted. Not to mention that we can’t do things the way you did them here. We kinda tried that already and it led to a coup. We need to find another way, and maybe some of our people will have an answer,” Levi argues, echoing my own internal thoughts.

Navaa frowns, as if there was no way us pitiful humans would be able to solve the problem if they couldn’t.

“Enough,” I say, leaning back into the seat. “We’re going. Today. Navaa, please don’t be offended when I tell you that I wasn’t asking permission. I was simply informing you of our plans out of courtesy.”

The entire Faida delegation is purse lipped, as if they had been sucking on lemons. “Thank you all,” I tell them as I stand. “The briefing was illuminating. I’m really encouraged.” I don’t mean to sound like a smart-ass, but I probably do. And I really don’t care. I can’t defer to them. Not now. Not ever.

Everyone else around the table also makes a move to leave. Ezra ambles over in our general direction and we all walk out of the room together. He kept his mouth shut. I’ll give him that much.