Judas Unchained

Rob glanced around at everyone, then gave the stationary motile a long stare. “What the fuck. Do what you like for now, Morton. But after we set off the nuke your girl had better provide one hell of a reason not to tell the navy what we’ve got. That’s how long she’s got.”

***

Mark and Liz spent the evening in their living room, sharing a bottle of wine and accessing the final moments of Randtown. It was Ulon Valley wine. His e-butler’s search program had found a supplier on Lyonna who had a few bottles left; it was an extortionate price, and then there was the premium same-day shipping charge to MoZ Express couriers on top of that. But what else could you drink while you watched a nuclear explosion obliterate your old hometown?

Mellanie had joined Michelangelo in his studio for the report. She marked the sobriety of the occasion by wearing a long black dress with a panel skirt that fell open to show off her beautiful legs. Her hair had been pulled back from her forehead into a thick, wavy tail. Michelangelo sat behind his desk like a minor Greek god in a sharp blue suit. The sexual tension between them was so strong that anyone using full-band TSI to access the show could almost smell the pheromones they were both pumping out into the studio air.

It certainly gave Mark some uncomfortable reminders of that day he’d encountered her up at the blockade in the Dau’sing Mountains.

“You were there during the evacuation,” Michelangelo was saying. “What’s your response to this?”

“It was inevitable. I really enjoyed my time in Randtown. The people were a bit quirky, we all know that, but seeing the images of what the Primes had done to the town and the Trine’ba was just devastating to me. They got what they deserved. I only hope the other navy squads are equally effective.”

“You say effective, but they lost two of their members on their first deployment. This remarkable recording, exclusive to our show, reveals the desperate odds our navy troops on the ground are facing.”

The picture changed from the studio to a grainy image of a mountainside in the middle of the night, a composite of various sensor feeds, producing a monochrome image. It was centered on Randtown, with the force field shining like a phosphorescent pearl above the familiar shoreline. The tactical nuclear bomb went off, flooding the interior with light. For a brief second the force field held, containing the explosion. Then it failed, and the mushroom cloud climbed up out of a seething pool of darkness.

“There really is no going back now,” Mark said solemnly.

Liz raised her glass. “To not looking back.”

“Amen.”

They stayed accessed for a while longer, while Mellanie eulogized about the squads that the navy had sent out. There were other recordings that Morton had made. Reconnoiter of Randtown and the aliens. The heroic last stand Doc Roberts and Parker made against the flyers. Simon Rand and the other refugees. She and Michelangelo discussed the navy strategy.

Mark’s e-butler told him someone was approaching the front door.

“At this hour?” Liz asked.

The house array showed them an image of Giselle Swinsol standing outside.

“Oh, Jesus,” Mark complained. “Now what?” He kept having guilty thoughts about all those insistent questions he’d been asking at work.

Giselle came straight into the living room, and refused the offer of a drink. She didn’t sit, either. “You’ve been asking a lot of questions, Mark,” she said. It was an accusation.

Mark was determined not to be intimidated by her tough-bitch personality. “I’m working on a fascinating project; obviously I’m curious. But I can appreciate that Nigel Sheldon doesn’t want the Commonwealth to know about it. You can rely on me.”

“Very good, Mark. The answer to your dreadfully unsubtle question is: yes, you and your family are entitled to a berth on the lifeboats should we face annihilation here.”

“Thank you.” It came out with such a heartfelt sigh he immediately felt ashamed. Once again she’d proved the strongest.

Her glossed lips curved up slightly, acknowledging her position. “So, you now advance to level two.”

“What does that mean?” Liz asked suspiciously.

“It means that Mark has done such a good job here that we feel his kind of expertise is better suited to other, more critical sections of the project.”

“What sections?” he blurted.

“Starship assembly. Pack your bags. The bus will pick you up tomorrow at eight o’clock.”

“We’re moving?” Liz said in alarm. “But the children have only just settled in school.”

“Their next school is just as good.”

“Where is it?” Mark asked. “Where are the evacuation starships being built?”

“Classified.” Giselle gave Liz a small smirk. “You’ll enjoy this next part. It’s right up your street.”

“Cow,” Liz hissed when she’d left.

Mark looked around the living room, the nearly empty bottle, the one big indentation on the couch where they’d snuggled up together. He had felt really comfortable in this house. “I don’t suppose they’ll move us again after this.”

“Only to the other side of the galaxy, baby.”

***