North America caught it first. “Shit. He used to be a sect member.”
“And presumably remains so,” Western Europe agreed. “He was still performing their ceremony on Lalonde; that was incident one, after all. Dexter is a true believer in the Light Bringer teachings.”
“You think he’s come back to find his God?”
“It’s not a god he worships, it’s the devil. But no, he’s not here to find him. My people ran a psychological profile simulation; what they got indicates he’s come back to prepare the way for his Lord, the Light Bringer, who glories in war and chaos. He’ll try to unleash as much mayhem and destruction on both us and the possessed as it’s possible to do. Nyvan was just the warm up. The real game is going to be played out down here.”
“Well that settles it then,” North Pacific said. “We have to close the vac-trains. It’ll mean losing an entire arcology to him; but we can save the rest.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Western Europe said. “Dexter is a problem; a novel one, granted. He’s different, and more powerful than all the others B7 has faced over the centuries. But that’s what we are here for, ultimately, to solve problems which would defeat conventional government action. We simply have to locate a weakness and use it.”
“An invisible megalomaniac as powerful as a minor god has a weakness?” North Pacific said. “Allah preserve us, I should like to hear what it is.”
“The Kavanagh girl has escaped him twice. Both times it was due to the intervention of an unknown possessed. We have an ally.”
“On Norfolk! Which has bloody vanished.”
“Nevertheless, Dexter does not command total support from the possessed. He is not invincible. And we have what should be a decisive advantage over him.”
“Which is?”
“We know about him. He knows nothing about us. That can be exploited to trap him.”
“Ah yes,” the Halo supervisor said contentedly. “Now I understand the reluctance for a personality debrief on the Kavanagh girl.”
“Well I don’t,” South America declared querulously.
“Personality debrief requires a much more invasive procedure,” Western Europe said. “At the moment Kavanagh is not aware of what has happened to her. That means we can use her ignorance to get very close to Dexter.”
“Close to . . .” South Pacific trailed off. “My God, you want to use her as a lightning conductor.”
“Exactly. At the moment we have one chance for proximity, and that’s Banneth. Unfortunately there is only a limited degree of preparation we can make with her. The possessed, and therefore presumably Dexter, can sense the emotional content of the minds around them. We have to proceed with extreme caution if he is to be lured into a termination option. If he learns someone is hunting him, we could lose several arcologies, if not more. Moving the Kavanagh girl back into the game doubles our chances of engineering an encounter with him.”
“That’s goddamn risky,” North America said.
“No, I like it,” Halo said. “It has subtlety; that’s more us than closing down the vac-trains and using SD fire to incinerate entire arcology domes.”
“Oh heaven preserve we should let our standard of style drop when the whole fucking world is about to go down the can,” South Pacific groused.
“Does anyone have a substantial objection?” Western Europe enquired.
“Your operation,” North Pacific said hotly. “Your responsibility.”
“Responsibility?” Australia chided lightly.
There were several smiles around the table as North Pacific glowered.
“Naturally I accept the consequences,” Western Europe purred volubly.
“You’re always such an arrogant little shit when you’re this age, aren’t you?” North Pacific said.
Western Europe just laughed.
The three Confederation Navy marines were polite, insistent, and resolutely uncommunicative. They escorted Joshua the entire length of Trafalgar. Which, he thought, was a hopeful sign; he was being taken away from the CNIS section. A day and a half of interviews with sour-faced CNIS investigators, cooperating like a good citizen. None of his questions answered in return. Certainly no access to a lawyer—one of the investigators had given him a filthy look when he half-jokingly asked for legal aid. Net processors wouldn’t respond to his datavises. He didn’t know where the rest of his crew was. Didn’t know what was happening to Lady Mac . And could make a pretty good guess what kind of report Monica and Samuel were concocting.
From the tube carriage station a lift took them up to a floor which was plainly officer country. A wide corridor, good carpet, discreet lighting, holograms of famous Naval events (few he recognized), intent men and women looping from office to office, none of them under the rank of senior lieutenant. Joshua was led into a reception room with two captains sitting at desks. One of them stood, and saluted the marines. “We’ll take him from here.”
“What is this?” Joshua asked. It definitely wasn’t a firing squad on the other side of the ornate double doors in front of him, and hopefully not a courtroom either.
“The First Admiral will see you now,” the captain said.
“Er,” Joshua said lamely. “Okay, then.”
The large circular office had a window overlooking the asteroid’s biosphere. It was night outside, the solartubes reduced to a misty oyster glimmer revealing little of the landscape. Big holoscreens on the walls were flashing up external sensor images of Avon and the asteroid’s spaceports. Joshua looked for Lady Mac among the docking bays, but couldn’t find her.
The captain beside him saluted. “Captain Calvert, sir.”
Joshua locked eyes with the man sitting behind the big teak desk in front of him, receiving a mildly intrigued gaze from Samual Aleksandrovich.
“So,” the First Admiral said. “Lagrange Calvert. You fly some very tight manoeuvres, Captain.”
Joshua narrowed his eyes, unsure just how much irony was being applied here. “I just do what comes naturally.”
“Indeed you do. I accessed that section of your file, also.” The First Admiral smiled at some internal joke, and waved a hand. “Please sit down, Captain.”
A blue-steel chair swelled up out of the floor in front of the desk. Alkad Mzu was sitting in the one next to it, body held rigid, staring ahead. On the other side of her, Monica and Samuel had relaxed back into their own chairs. The First Admiral introduced the demure Edenist woman beside them as Admiral Lalwani, the CNIS chief. Joshua responded with a very nervous twitch of greeting.
“I think I had better start by saying the Confederation Navy would like to thank you for your part in the Nyvan affair, and solving the Alchemist problem for us,” the First Admiral said. “I do not like to dwell on the consequences had the Capone Organization acquired it.”
“I’m not under arrest?”
“No.”
Joshua let out a hefty breath of relief. “Jesus!” He grinned at Monica, who responded with a laconic smile.
“Er, so can I go now?” he asked without much hope.
“Not quite,” Lalwani said. “You’re one of the few people who knows how the Alchemist works,” she told him.
Joshua did his best not to glance at Mzu. “A very brief description.”
“Of the principles,” Mzu said.
“And I believe you told Samuel and agent Foulkes that you would submit to internal exile in Tranquillity so no one else could obtain the information,” Lalwani said.
“Did I? No.”
Monica pantomimed deep thought. “Your exact words were: I’ll stay in Tranquillity if we survive this, but I have to know.”
“And you said you’d stay there with me,” Joshua snapped back. He scowled at her. “Ever heard of Hiroshima?”
“The first time an atomic bomb was used on Earth,” Lalwani said.
“Yeah. At the time the only real secret about an atom bomb was the fact that it was possible to build one that worked. Once it got used, that secret was out.”