innocent civilians. However, we choose not to surrender at this time, as we are not assured of our safety and also do not wish to allow our ships to fall into the hands of the Protectorate.
“We advise the forces of the Protectorate not to bother tracing the origin of this signal, as we will not be remaining at these coordinates for more than another thirty hours. For our comrades in arms on Earth, we leave you with the message that we are one in thought, one in courage… and one in action. This may not be a time for flagships and space battles, but it is the time for brave men and women to step forward and unite.”
The screen degenerated into a snowy, patternless collage and Kristopolis shut it off.
“Yes!” Shannon beat her fist against the console triumphantly, earning a curious stare from Kristopolis.
“Am I missing something?” he asked her. “I mean, it was a stirring speech, but…”
“Get the Senator,” she told him. “And Agent Klesko. Bring them back here now!”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sketched a salute and sprinted out of the room, leaving Shannon staring at the screen, shaking her head.
“Jason McKay,” she whispered, grinning from ear to ear like a child on Christmas morning, “you’re a Goddamned genius.”
“I don’t understand.” Senator O’Keefe shook his head as Jason’s image faded and the recording ended. “I mean, I’m gratified that Captain McKay is all right, but what’s the urgency?”
“Listen to the beginning again,” Shannon told him, keying the read-write disc.
“I am speaking both to our citizenry and to the representatives of the Protectorate,” McKay’s image repeated, “and any of my comrades who are listening should remember this.” Shannon paused the replay and turned to O’Keefe.
“That’s a code-phrase,” she told him. “The mention of speaking both to us and the Protectorate means he’s trying to deliver a message but can’t speak plainly.”
“It’s POW code,” Charlie Klesko confirmed, leaning on Valerie O’Keefe and Glen Mulrooney, who’d helped to bring him from his room. His wounds had been treated with medical supplies stored in the shelter, but the metal fragment had cracked his right hip and he should, Val kept reminding him, have been in bed. “Standard for almost a hundred years—if the enemy’s listening, find a way to let the good guys know. A pretty good job of it, too.” He groaned softly as Val and Glen gently lowered him into a seat on the sofa.
Mulrooney stood leaning against the far wall, haunting the room like a ghost. He’d wandered the shelter like a lost soul since last night. Shannon wasn’t sure if he’d slept. Val sat on the room’s sofa next to Klesko, as if she lacked purpose without him around to tend.
“But what’s he trying to tell us?” the Senator wanted to know.
“He says they’re ‘not in the planning stages’ of any attack on the Protectorate,” Shannon reminded him, “but since he’s let us know that he’s talking for the benefit of the enemy, I’d say that means they
“The President,” Klesko said. “He wants someone down here to try and free the President.”
“And probably take the control center for the orbital defense satellites at the same time,” Shannon agreed.
“Even if anyone had the capability for that,” Lieutenant Kristopolis protested, “the Protectorate ships would just destroy the control center with a missile.”
“That has to be the other part of the plan,” Shannon deduced. “He said ‘This may not be the time for flagships and space battles, but it is the time for brave men and women to step forward and unite.’ The Protectorate’s flagship—he’d have to be setting up some kind of attack to take it out.”
“He stressed unity several times,” Klesko pointed out. “He wants to coordinate the attacks so the Protectorate won’t have time to react.”
“I don’t know,” Daniel O’Keefe sighed, running a hand across his face. “That’s assuming an awful lot.”
“I know Jason,” Shannon insisted—and couldn’t help but notice the sharp glance that earned from Valerie. “He wouldn’t waste time on a message like that unless it meant something more. There was a carrier wave tucked into the message—it’s a standard navigational code. He’s giving us the coordinates to transmit a reply.”
“And a time frame,” Klesko reminded her. “Thirty hours.”
“It’ll have to be a tight-beam transmission.” Shannon bit her lip thoughtfully, pacing around the room, hugging her arms to her. It was chilly in the shelter at night, and she wasn’t dressed for it. “We don’t have that kind of equipment here.”
“What would you need?” Kristopolis wondered.
“Access to one of the orbital comsats would be best,” Agent Klesko told him. “But we could probably get away with a high-powered, ground-based laser.”
“Access to a comsat,” the RSC Lieutenant mused, rubbing at his chin. “You mean like a Republic Holonet broadcast station?”
Shannon’s head snapped around and Klesko struggled to sit up straighter.
“I mean exactly like an RHN station.” Klesko grabbed the man’s arm. “Tell me there’s one near here.”
“In Cleveland ’plex,” Kristy confirmed. “I pass it every day on the way to work.”
“The Russians’ll have it secured,” Shannon warned.
“But not tightly,” Klesko argued. “They can’t have that many troops onplanet yet. We can do it.”
“We’re still going to need those weapons,” Kristopolis said. “If you try something like this, it’ll make it harder to get them.”
“What weapons?” Senator O’Keefe asked, looking at each of them as if they’d lost their minds. “What are you talking about?”
“We could do the ops at the same time,” Klesko suggested, continuing as if he hadn’t heard the man’s question. “It won’t take that many troops to pull off the transmission—actually, I wouldn’t take more than ten people.”
“That’s true.” Shannon leaned back on the commo console, her eyes glazed in thought for a moment. “But we’d be stretching our resources pretty thin.”
“I might be able to find us some more help,” Kristopolis told her. “I know a few of the local cops—they could provide some warm bodies.”
“Just hold it one Goddamned minute!” Senator O’Keefe slammed a fist down on the commo console.
Everyone’s head swivelled around, staring at him wide-eyed. O’Keefe’s face was red and he was huffing like a steam engine.
“I seem to recall,” he strained the words out through clenched teeth, “someone telling me I was the
“Sorry, sir.” Shannon winced contritely. “You see, Agent Klesko knows of an emergency cache of weaponry nearby—we’ll need them if we’re going to carry out any actions against the Protectorate forces.”
“The site’s pretty well camouflaged,” Klesko put in. “There probably won’t be any resistance—we’ll just have to be careful on the way back. What Lieutenant Kristopolis was pointing out was that it would be more risky if we attempted to access the weapons after we made the transmission, since the Protectorate forces would be on alert.”
“You really think we can accomplish anything,” the Senator asked him, “with just a handful of Service Corps troops?”
“They’re damned good troops, sir.” There was an edge to Kristopolis’ tone.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” O’Keefe shook his head, pacing across the room, hands shoved in his pants pockets. “You heard what Antonov said. If we oppose them, there may be reprisals against civilians.”
“And if we don’t oppose them, sir,” Shannon countered, “do you think those civilians will thank us for sparing them to live a life of servitude to the Protectorate?”
“What if you lead them back here?” he asked, eyes on Val.
Shannon hissed out a frustrated breath. She recalled Governor Sigurdsen asking a similar question back on Aphrodite, but she couldn’t give the acting head of the Republic government the same flip answer she’d given him.
“Sir, you’re the leader of the entire human race, not just the part of it in this shelter.” She didn’t take the
