Killswitch: A Cassandra Kresnov Novel Read online

  "Hearsay."

  "No, it's not hearsay ... or, okay yes, maybe it is hearsay, but it's damn good hearsay! Sandy, my source was very specific. The threat comes from inside the government, Sandy ..." Sandy rolled her eyes with tired exasperation. "No, don't ... don't do that thing with the eyes, you're not listening to me."

  "Ari, how many times have you warned me that President Neiland wants to get rid of me?"

  "I ... I didn't say that at all! I said that you're fast becoming a political liability to her and she'll come under tremendous pressure to get rid of you one way or the other."

  "It's the same thing, Am" She took his face in her hands. "I appreciate the concern, seriously I do, but face facts-you just don't like Neiland. She's not going to get rid of me. She's my friend."

  "Sandy." He removed her hands with determination, and fixed her with a very firm stare. "If your beloved President has to choose between forging a new alliance to complete the relocation, or saving your neck, which do you think she'll choose?"

  Sandy gazed up at him defiantly. "What, you think my removal will be a precondition? Like the rest of the Federation doesn't have important things to worry about?"

  "You're the public face, Sandy! It's ... damn, it's never been about what you actually are, it's always been about what you represent!" Searching her eyes for some small sign that she'd understood, and was going to take his concerns seriously. "Look, at least tell me you'll be careful. All right?"

  "I'm always careful."

  "Sandy ..."

  "Okay, okay." She held up both hands in defeat, somewhat amused at his persistence. "I'll be careful. I'll be such a political cynic, I'll make you proud." And she rolled him over with an effortless twist, positioning herself comfortably on top. "You're adorable when you're worried about me," she told him. And kissed him on the lips. He didn't respond. Sandy sighed. "There's more, isn't there?"

  "There's a killswitch."

  Sandy frowned at him, not understanding. "A killswitch? What about a killswitch?"

  An gazed up at her for a long moment. His expression was more than reluctant. As if this were something he'd seriously, seriously not wanted to have to tell her. Watching him, Sandy felt the first stirrings of genuine trepidation. An put both hands on her bare hips. Ran them over that pronounced curve to her waist, then up her sides and over her shoulders. The thumb of his right hand pressed firmly on the bone behind her left ear, fingers beneath her hair upon the very top of her upper vertebra, hard under the rear of her skull. Right where the insert implants were-small nodules of artificial resistance beneath his fingers. The fingers moved two centimetres to one side, and stopped.

  "Right there," said An, quietly. "Fused to the brainstem. Triggered by some kind of attack code. Killswitch."

  Sandy stared down at him, slowly growing cold all over. At first, she didn't believe it. But the look in An's eyes triggered doubts and suspicions of her own, long harboured but mostly ignored until now due to a lack of solid evidence. She didn't always trust An's political hunches, because she reckoned An's own obvious political biases usually got in the way. But where technology was concerned, he was deadly objective, every time. Particularly when that technology concerned her, and how she functioned.

  "Oh no," she said, disbelievingly. Then, with a surging, profound frustration, "Oh no. How fucking dare they?"

  "Sandy, come here." Ari put both hands on her shoulders and tried to pull her into a comforting embrace. Sandy resisted effortlessly, arms braced hard upon the mattress either side of him.

  "Who told you?" she demanded, fixing him with a stare that would have turned most straights to jelly. Ari looked pained, but for an entirely different reason.

  "Reliable sources," he said apologetically.

  "It was someone at that fucking Cognizant Systems party, wasn't it? Who? A League engineer? Someone who worked on the advanced GI projects?"

  "I'm sorry, Sandy, I really can't say. It's not in your operational brief as CDF second-in-command. I was actually working there, you know, it's not just a junket. I maintain sources and do research." An looked very concerned. Well, she supposed that was understandable. Given that the affectionate, beautiful, naked woman on top of him had suddenly transformed into an angry, eyes-blazing, steely limbed monster on his lap, arms braced like a cat ready to pounce.

  "Shit," she said with that realisation, and sprang from the bed. She paced for a moment in the cool air, bare feet on the floorboards, hands on her hips and trying to get her head back into some kind of order. An sat upright in bed, pulling the bedcovers up to his waist, watching her with continuing concern. She pulled loose hair back from her face with both hands. "What else do you know about it?"

  "Nothing," said An. "I've been trying to find out. But I don't know what codes you should watch for ... I reckoned you'd know better than me anyhow."

  "I don't suppose we can remove it?"

  "No, it's ... it's right in the spinal cord, Sandy. Inside the vertebrae. Maybe ... maybe if some of the doctors took a look at it, they could find a way to neutralise it, or ... or something, I don't know. But you know how good League tech is, that's why no one ever spotted it without knowing what to look for."

  "It's not survivable?" Knowing better than to even ask. But she had to be sure.

  "It'll fry the whole brainstem, Sandy." And then, somewhat cautiously, "You've never seen it used, then?"

  "No." She stood still upon the floor, gazing through the gap between curtains and wall, where the street lighting fell upon the balcony beyond. Green tree-fronds swayed in a gentle night breeze, glistening with recent rain. The night air was cool upon her bare skin. She folded her arms. "No, not with us little obedient goody-two-shoes. Oh shit!" As another thought struck her, and she clutched both hands to her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "Now I know why they did that ... shit, shit, shit!"

  "Did what?"

  "Oh ... just a Dark Star file I broke into while I was there, warning of precautionary measures in case a GI commander went crazy. Shots to the head, that kind of thing. But nothing for me. No procedure. I guess the solution was too obvious." She looked sideways at An, sitting upright in bed. Watching her. "What about Rhian?"

  "That's what I wanted to suggest," said An. "Get her in for a check-up. Because my contact wasn't sure, Sandy. Very sure about you, but not the others. You were always the greatest risk, though. They knew that. And you did defect, so really, they were right to worry."

  "Oh, they were right about lots of things," Sandy muttered. "I hate those fucking bastards. I might be a soldier, but I'm a person too. They had no fucking right."

  "Sandy." Ari climbed from the bed and came to her in the dim light. Took her hands in both of his, and gazed earnestly into her eyes. "Are you hearing me now? Be careful, it's not just physical threats I'm talking about. The network could get you too. Keep your barriers up."

  Sandy frowned at him in suspicion. "How long have you been running around after this?"

  "A while," said An. Sandy kept gazing at him, questioningly. Ari sighed in exasperation. "Sandy, don't you get it? I care about you. I care about you a lot."

  "Once upon a time you thought I was a fascinating little project of yours," Sandy said reproachfully. Not really knowing why she said it, even as she spoke. But she was angry. And alarmed, and looking for a secure foundation.

  "Sure, maybe I did think that once," Ari conceded with an offhanded shrug. "But I'm past that now. I mean seriously, you're not the only one who's grown up in the last two years. I like you. The rest of it just doesn't matter to me." And put a hand to her chin, tilting her gaze when she proved reluctant to meet his gaze. Raised his eyebrows at her, seeking her acknowledgement. Sandy sighed, and embraced him.

  Sandy came downstairs at six thirty the next morning, a little late following her shower, and found that Jean-Pierre was dangling from the small chandelier above the open kitchen. Vanessa stood on the bench by the stove, her uniform unbuttoned in typical early morning disarray, and held her ha
nds up to the chandelier, making appealing, chirping sounds. A big pair of round eyes peered anxiously over the rim, dexterous little feet clinging nimbly to the frame.

  "Jean-Pierre! Come on, baby. Jump, Jean-Pierre, Mummy will catch you!" The bunbun turned back and forth with clever grips of its toes, seeking another option.

  "How in the world did he get up there?" Sandy asked, straightening her shirt collar beneath the open jacket as she entered the kitchen and began arranging a meal of muesli and fruit around Vanessa's feet.

  "It's what they do," Vanessa complained. "They climb trees and sleep in the high branches. Jean-Pierre! Look, it's not that far! I'll catch you! "

  "Why is all Callayan wildlife so irredeemably stupid?" Ari asked, coming fast down the stairs in a descending rhythm of black boots.

  "He's not stupid!" Vanessa protested. "He's just a little daft." And tried chirping at him again.

  "He'll poop on your head," warned Anita from the lounge sofa, where she was jacked into her portable terminal, doubtless checking on her morning network scan. She'd slept in the guest room again-her job being what it was, she could pretty much work from anywhere. Sandy finished pouring muesli, and Ari anticipated her reach for the fruit bowl, grabbing a ripe majo off the top and tossing it hard at her. Sandy caught it with an effortless snap of the wrist, and began peeling it with a rapid motion of knife-blade against thumb.

  "I mean seriously," said An, preparing his own bowl with curious glances upward at the stranded bunbun, "we could at least have a few genus of flesh-ripping carnivores ... maybe a poisonous flying reptile or fire breathing fish or something."

  "Yeah, that'd work," said Sandy with amusement, chopping the fruit with eye-blurring flashes of steel.

  "Instead we get ... that." An pointed disdainfully up at the chandelier. "Behold all you tiny humans, the pinnacle of the Callayan food chain. He is the bunbun, hear his mighty roar." Jean-Pierre fixed him with a golden-eyed, reproachful stare within an adorably cute, furry brown face.

  "There's more worthwhile things in evolution than teeth and claws," Vanessa retorted.

  "I mean we can't even eat them," An continued, "they're all fur and bones. I tell you, it's just as well humans arrived on this planet when we did, the local wildlife certainly wasn't going anywhere without us."

  "How do you know?" Sandy replied. "Bunbuns have opposable thumbs, maybe there'd be a great bunbun civilisation here in another ten million years if we'd left them alone." Leaping to seat herself on the opposing bench, eating her muesli and watching as Jean-Pierre leaned precariously over the rim of the chandelier, nose twitching as he stretched toward Vanessa's outstretched hands. Then the chandelier shifted and swung, and Jean-Pierre scrambled back to a safer perch.

  Vanessa clasped exasperated hands to her hips. "Maybe we could tempt him down with some honey?" Glancing at Sandy with great earnestness, seeking her opinion. Sandy shrugged as she chewed, struggling to hide her amusement. It seemed a curious predicament for two of Callay's most senior soldiers.

  "I'll get him down for you," suggested An, reaching for the gun holster inside his jacket and withdrawing a black automatic pistol.

  "Ari!" Sandy scolded. Over on the sofa, Anita fell over laughing. Vanessa glared. An shrugged offhandedly, and reholstered the pistol. Rhian came down the steps with a blur of rapid feet. Sandy did a fast double-take, as did Ari-Rhian wore tight denim jeans and a very fashionable cut-off shirt tied into a bow below the breastbone, leaving her tight stomach suggestively bare. She moved with a spring beyond her usual energy, positively cheerful with a broad smile for them all.

  "Good morning!" And, with a glance up at Jean-Pierre's predicament, "Major Rice, if you don't mind me saying so, your animal appears to have a very small brain."

  "He keeps his mouth shut," Vanessa retorted, "which is more than I can say for some."

  Rhian moved swiftly over, and sprang effortlessly off the ground. In mid-air one hand grasped the chandelier, the other pried Jean-Pierre expertly from his perch, then landed with a gentle thump, the startled bunbun now clinging to her arms in bewilderment.

  "Ari, handpass!" She moved to play on, football style, faking the handpass then spinning away, going for a pretend bounce behind the dining table, followed by a drop kick ...

  "Give!" called Vanessa sternly, jumping down from the bench and striding over, hands outstretched. Rhian grinned and placed JeanPierre onto the dining table. The bunbun ran nimbly on furry legs across the table and leaped into Vanessa's arms. Vanessa cuddled him and made cooing noises as Jean-Pierre tried to plaster her face with his little tongue.

  "That animal's so cute it's sickening," An observed around a mouthful of breakfast. "You know, Ricey, if you'd treated your men that well you wouldn't be single."

  "Sandy," Vanessa commanded, "silence the boyfriend." Sandy extended a foot from her seat upon the bench, and pushed Ari in the shoulder. "Men like you are the reason four legs and a tail suddenly became attractive." Ari clutched at his heart, dramatically.

  "At least she didn't say men like you are the reason she started sleeping with women," Sandy offered.

  "You haven't started sleeping with women," Ari retorted.

  Sandy smiled. "Give it time." With a playful glance at Vanessa above her next mouthful of breakfast. Vanessa grinned back, trying to keep Jean-Pierre's searching tongue out of her ear.

  An blinked. "Well I guess that won't bother me too much, provided I can watch."

  "That's a nice outfit, Rhi," Anita called over from the sofa. "What's the occasion?"

  "I have a day off today," said Rhian, beaming. "Major Ramoja has us all on duty rosters, and today's my free day."

  "I haven't had a full day off in weeks," Vanessa sighed.

  "I'm going to do some shopping," Rhian continued, "then I'm going to Denpasar to see the big wildlife enclosure, then to Patna to see that Festival of the Sun they keep showing on the news, that looks really nice ... then I'm going to a football game in Santiello in the evening."

  "You really like football, don't you?" Anita asked, resting chin upon her hand, elbow upon the sofa arm, gazing with obvious fascination. "Sandy's never gotten into sports, she says there's not a sport invented that's a technical challenge for a GL"

  "She's right," Rhian agreed. "I just like being at the game. Everyone's so excited, and the crowd roars and waves banners, and the players all hug each other when they kick a goal. It's fun."

  "I guess I just like my cultural events to mean something deeper," Sandy reflected around a mouthful. "Physical performance might be a big deal to a straight, but I just can't get excited about it. It's too easy."

  "For you, maybe," said Rhian. "You have to learn to empathise better with straights."

  And Sandy just stared at her, incredulously. Vanessa grinned, and An shook his head in smiling disbelief. Jean-Pierre struggled to be free of Vanessa's arms, bounding to the ground and trotting toward the familiar scent of Anita, who lowered a hand for him to sniff.

  "It's strange," Rhian continued, apparently unaware of the minor commotion she'd caused, "I checked a database on the history of football, but when you go back far enough, most of the references are to a different sport entirely-one with a round ball and the players don't even use their hands."

  "Oh that's soccer," Anita said, highly amused as Jean-Pierre tried to grasp her fingers with his tight little hands, and lick them. "Football began in India, and they got so huge they spread the sport around the world and it took over from soccer a few hundred years ago as the biggest football code."

  An made a loud, quizz-show-buzzer noise to the negative. "Wrong," he said. "Football began in Australia, it was called Australian football. It was inspired partly by Gaelic football from Ireland, and partly by a game the Australian Aborigines played. India borrowed it from them sometime in the twenty-first century."

  Rhian frowned. "I've never heard of Australia."

  "Big, empty, boring place with lots of stupid furry animals," said An around another mouthful. "Lot
like here."

  "Rhi," said Sandy, fixing her friend with a solemn gaze. "Before you get going, could I ask you to do something for me?"

  An also gazed at Rhian, the humour abruptly replaced by calculation. "Of course," said Rhian. "What would you like me to do?"

  CHAPTER

  he ride over to HQ was not a pleasant one. Vanessa fumed all the way, although precisely what she was upset at, Sandy couldn't say.

  Rhian simply sat in the backseat of the armoured government cruiser, and gazed out at the spectacular aerial view of passing towers on a carpet of green urbanity, gleaming bright in patches beneath the slanting rays of the morning sun. Here and there the sunlight flashed on the surface of one of the many tributaries of the Shoban Delta. The air seemed thick with morning haze, typical midsummer humidity rising off the wet trees and damp ground, darkening the sun to a deep, luxuriant orange in the eastern sky.

  Sandy landed the cruiser on the exclusive pad atop the main CDF building of the broader CSA compound-facilities would be much better, they had been promised, when the CDF had its own compound, somewhere out in the brand new Herat district currently under construction beyond the outermost of the city's existing inhabited zones. Herat was also the location for the new Grand Council buildings, centred about an enormous structure whose size, when completed, would dwarf even the Callayan Parliament building. There was a Fleet Command building under construction somewhere out there too. No doubt certain indignant Fleet admirals thought that highly presumptuous.

  She was walking across the rooftop pad with Vanessa and Rhian when she received a call.

  "Hello, Commander," came a youthful, enthusiastic voice in her inner ear. "I've been arranging your itinerary for the day and prioritising departmental requests. Would you like an immediate rundown or would you prefer to wait until the office?"

  "I think that can wait, Private Zhang." Truthfully, she had her own automatic programs in place that sorted much of the scheduling and priorities for her. And she could access all of that remotely without any help. Her new secretary, however, was young, bright eyed and eager to be useful.