Eternal Return (War Eternal Book 6) Read online

  She knew he loved her at some level, even if it went against all reason or logic. Sometimes she wished she could feel the way he did, or at the very least connect herself to that nascent memory where they cared for one another so deeply. She was almost jealous of her prior selves for their ability to connect with Mitchell. Wish as she might, try as she might, she just couldn't seem to find that same spark. It was the one blemish on the otherwise solid friendship they had developed since they had met six weeks earlier. Since he had rescued her from the sinking wreckage of the XENO-1, and finished slamming open the door to a world that wasn't quite what she had believed it to be.

  The lift reached its destination, the pneumatic doors sliding open on a puff of air. Mitchell took the lead, spilling out into another sterile corridor.

  "No targets," Mitchell said.

  "We've got plenty over here, Mitch," Lyle said. "If you're getting bored."

  "Negative. Let's finish the pattern and go home."

  "Roger."

  Mitchell moved down the corridor at a run, with Katherine keeping pace behind him.

  The weeks since Antarctica had been a blur of activity. It had started with their return to the military base on the sub-continent, where Yousefi had managed to arrange for the VTOL not to be searched until after the illicit crew had disembarked, which meant everyone except Damon, Verma, and Cooper's body. From there, Yousefi had been forced to write up a pretty vague report on why the Fifteenth had been in Antarctica, why they had been near the XENO-1, and if they had anything to do with the fact that it sank.

  Luckily, the only witnesses were the ones who knew the whole truth of the story. The ones who knew about Watson, the Tetron, and the dark future of humankind, and scientific studies of the ice in the subsequent weeks had meshed with the story Yousefi told. One where the AIT had sent insurgents to the site to wreak some havoc and try to steal samples of the technology.

  Of course, that story wasn't too far from the truth.

  The Admiral had helped keep the rest of the team packed away in a small storage area nearby for a few days while he worked everything out and got the Fifteenth reconnected with their plane. Everything had to be done carefully, every move considered because there was no way of knowing how far up the chain Watson had managed to implant himself. General Petrov had been clearly outed as a configuration, which meant anything that made too much noise was bound to be heard.

  Those days had given Mitchell plenty of time to spend with Katherine and Kathy, and the three of them, along with the rest of the team, had gotten to know one another pretty well. For all his personal disappointment at Katherine's lack of interest, he was equally elated by the fact that Kathy had survived her collision with the Tetron AI and persisted through the twenty years while he had been tucked away in a psych ward, suffering from an induced amnesia.

  That they were together as a team, together as a family, gave him hope that all their efforts had been worth something,

  Mitchell reached a fork in the corridors. He swept to the left, while Katherine took the right.

  "Clear," he said.

  "Clear," she said.

  "Which way?" Katherine asked.

  "Michael?" Mitchell said.

  "Left," Michael replied.

  Mitchell waved Katherine to the left.

  "Alfa, this is Bulldog," Trevor's voice cut over his comm. "I've got incoming from the street. Three vans."

  "Roger, Bulldog. Keep them in sight, but do not engage."

  "Affirmative."

  Mitchell growled softly.

  "Are we almost there?" Katherine asked, sensing his frustration.

  "I think so."

  The layout of the building changed instantly, from sterile white corridors with limited doorways to halls of long transparencies, through which large rooms filled with machines could be observed. There was all kinds of equipment inside, most of it foreign to Mitchell.

  "Activating the transmission," Mitchell said. "Bravo, how's it going?"

  "Loud," Max replied. The equipment dialed down the external noise, the buzz of the traded gunfire. "Nothing we can't handle, sir."

  "Get ready to pull out."

  "Yes, sir."

  Six weeks. Five since the remainder of the Fifteenth had made its way to a secondary base in the Pacific Northwest, in the Olympic Mountains near Seattle. It wasn't a fixed position like Colorado. It was an emergency spot; a small, wooded clearing for the VTOL that sat adjacent to what looked like an old log cabin. The inside of the space was also sufficiently rustic and ordinary, save for a hidden switch in the back of the fireplace which opened a secret door to a subterranean world, one where there was enough food and supply for a six-month tour. It was part of a contingency plan should the opposition have won the Xeno War, and it had spent the ensuing years sitting unused.

  Until now.

  Now it was home to Mitchell and his crew, who he had affectionately reclaimed under the Riggers moniker. He had explained the significance when he did, and none of them had complained. The similarities were hard to ignore. They were all from different branches and backgrounds, and none particularly skilled at following outside orders to the letter. They were all outcasts, be it by fate or misfortune; a mixture of ingredients that should have created a powder keg, but instead somehow blended into a cohesive and pretty bad-ass team.

  "Michael, are you getting this?" Mitchell asked.

  "Yes, sir," Michael replied. "We're interfacing with the Core. Keep moving; I'll stop you when we get a hit."

  Mitchell and Katherine continued along their course.

  "Alfa, this is Bulldog. It looks like a strike team is headed your way. I can't follow them inside. Should I harass them a bit?"

  "Negative," Mitchell said. "We've reached the target. We'll try to slip past them. See if you can get some high ground."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Bravo, this is Alfa, start pulling out."

  "Yes, sir," Max replied.

  "Michael, anything?" Mitchell asked.

  "I told you I would tell you," Michael replied. He paused for a second, and then remembered to tack on the "Sir."

  Mitchell ran through two more corridors, keeping his head pointed through the glass. There was a closed door up ahead, one without any transparency to check on the contents.

  "What about in there?"

  "Let's open it," Michael replied.

  Mitchell grabbed the small black device and placed it on the lock. It opened within a couple of seconds, revealing an empty room.

  "If there was anything here, it's gone," Mitchell said.

  "Hold on," Michael said as Mitchell started to turn.

  Mitchell put his head back to the room. "What?"

  "The Core is scanning for residuals."

  "Can it scan faster?"

  The Core. As far as Mitchell was concerned, it was the reason he and the Riggers were still alive. It was the Core that had deleted every reference to the Olympic base from military records, all within a matter of seconds and before Watson could discover it. It was the Core that had followed the trail from the Tetron backward, tracing it to the founding of the Nova Taurus corporation, almost thirty years before the XENO-1 had crashed into the Antarctic ice. They had already suspected Watson was in control of the technology firm, and the Core had confirmed it, quickly determining every holding and shell company that connected back to the parent.

  It was more than Mitchell could believe.

  Nova Taurus had a connection to almost everything related to technology and military supply, as well as ownership of one of the largest clandestine "security" companies in North America. Their footprint was massive, their fingerprint all over the place. What would have taken years for a human to sort through had made something painfully apparent to the Core within days:

  Watson was slowly subverting the entire world to his control.

  The question was, why? With all of the power he had gained, he could destroy the world and all of the humans on it. He could erase humankind
and complete the war hundreds of years ahead of time. Yet he didn't. The Core claimed there was a ninety-six percent probability it was because he hadn't gotten his hands on an eternal engine. He needed the device to make more Tetron, and if he couldn't get it from Mitchell and company, he was going to try to build his own.

  After all, even with the Riggers in play, time was still on the intelligence's side. He had the upper hand, especially having captured Origin and taken her data stack. The Core had deduced that Watson knew exactly why Origin and Mitchell had worked to bring him back with them. Their original goal was to use the control code the Tetron had written to overwhelm the others and implant a virus into their systems that would be one hundred times more effective than the first effort. An effort that had failed. While Origin had birthed the other Tetron, her evolution beyond pure logic, to emotion and empathy, had altered her such that the dirty bomb she had created to kill her children had merely damaged them to differing, chaotic degrees.

  Bringing Watson back and then capturing his core was intended to allow them to alter the virus. At first, the idea had been to make it more suitable to the bulk of the Tetron and multiply its efficacy. With the discovery of Watson's plan to take control of all the Tetron, that idea had been changed somewhat. Now the goal was to single him out and disable him. By then using the control code, it would let them turn all of the other Tetron into duplicates of him, at which point they could unleash the poison and watch every last Tetron die, both in this timeline and in the future.

  They had the control code. Not the chip Mitchell had when he left the hospital. That had been Watson's doing. A trap. The real code was still held within the Core. What they needed now was to figure out where in the world Watson's true self was hiding, while at the same time make sure he couldn't complete an engine of his own. They also had to keep the Core hidden, in the hope that Watson would stay on the defensive instead of coming after the Goliath's engine once more.

  All of this, and they had to do it in a matter of months. When the Goliath left Earth, Mitchell, Kathy, Katherine, and the Core had to be on it with the engine. If Watson hadn't stopped them by then, or if they hadn't captured Watson, both sides were going to converge on that singular point in time and space, and Mitchell had no doubt the result would be catastrophic in a way that would ripple across all future recursions.

  "Scan is complete," Michael said. "No sign of residuals that would suggest eternal engine components, but-" Michael paused.

  "But, what?" Mitchell asked.

  "Do you know what an amoebics is?"

  Mitchell felt a chill run down his spine. They were looking for the engine components, and possibly the Tetron's core. This wasn't that, but it was bad, anyway. The last thing they needed was for Watson to be producing the powerful ammunition.

  "What's the chance the tooling is on-site?" Mitchell asked.

  "Hold on." Michael paused. "The Core calculates seventy-two percent."

  Mitchell looked back at Katherine.

  "What's the verdict, Colonel?" she asked, leaning on him to make the decision.

  Mitchell paused for a heartbeat. He knew the alarm would direct Watson's attention right to them, but what choice did he have? "Let's blow it. Bulldog, this is Alfa, do you copy?"

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  "Affirmative, Alfa. What do you need?"

  "I need you to trip the fire alarm."

  "What?"

  "We're blowing the basement. Watson's building weapons down here. We need to try to get as many people out as we can."

  "Colonel, we don't know how many of them are compromised. Hell, they might all be compromised."

  "Understood. They're still people, and once we reach the core we can get them free."

  "Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

  "Bravo, this is Alfa. Sitrep."

  "We're almost out," Max said.

  "Michael, any sign that Watson knows we're down here?"

  "No, Colonel. The external team is standard security response. As near as we can tell, they're flowing into Nova Taurus buildings across the globe."

  "Roger. Tell Yousefi we're blowing the target. He'll need to prep something for the brass."

  "He's going to have a fit," Katherine said.

  "Nothing we can do about it," Mitchell replied. "If Watson brings amoebics into this, a lot of innocent people are going to die."

  Mitchell dug into the expanded pockets of his fatigues, picking out a number of hockey pucks from them and passing half to Katherine. The explosive should be powerful enough to make a mess of anything down on this level, and while he didn't think it would knock out the building entirely, he didn't want to take any chances. Besides, he was hoping the ensuing rush to the exits would cause problems for the inbound security team.

  "Cover this side. I'll lay them closer to the lift."

  "Yes, sir," Katherine said. She grabbed the pucks and moved out into the hallway, placing them along the glass.

  Mitchell ran back the way they had come, placing explosives. He would cover the retreat while Katherine finished her work.

  A short click, and then a warble from klaxons hidden in the walls. The laboratory was empty at the moment, their inception timed as perfectly as possible to ensure it would be. Configurations were human enough they needed to eat and sleep and shit, and they did all three with absolute precision. Watson didn't know that they knew this facility was here. At least, he hadn't known before now. The secondary target had been chosen as a red herring. A diversion.

  "Alfa, this is Charlie. Pickup in four minutes."

  Mitchell winced. They were really running short of time.

  "Alfa, Bulldog. The alarm is blaring. Most of the civvies are breaking clear. Not all." There was a grunt and a pause. "The ones that aren't leaving are coming after me. Damn. I'm trying not to hurt them."

  "Bulldog, do what you have to do to get out alive. We save the ones we can."

  "Affirmative." The muffled report of a firearm followed. "You're going to have company."

  "I expected as much."

  Mitchell found a space against the wall with a good angle of attack on the lift. He considered tossing an explosive into it, but he hadn't noticed an emergency stairwell anywhere, and they wouldn't have time to go searching. He would have to clear the lift if they were going to get out.

  Everything seemed to slow down as he waited. His breathing became calmer, his mind more focused. He closed his eyes, counting to five, and opened them again. His normal view had been replaced with the familiar overlay of his neural interface, his p-rat, repaired by Kathy and updated by Michael using software contained in the Core. He could see his vitals in the upper corner and below that a signal that chemicals were being dumped into his system to speed his reaction time. Kathy had told Yousefi what they needed there, and the Admiral had somehow managed to procure it.

  In the future, Mitchell was a regular Space Marine. A highly skilled and trained Space Marine, but still technically no different than any of his fellow officers. In this part of the timeline, however; the interface made him more than that.

  Much more.

  The lift toned as it reached the floor and the doors began to open. Mitchell received the data from the interface, calling out six targets and identifying their armor protection and armament in an instant. The system helped him make tiny adjustments in his aim, electrical signals to his nervous system interrupting his brain's to prevent him from overcorrecting as he squeezed the trigger, firing three rounds within the first few seconds, while the doors were barely parted.

  Three targets on his p-rat faded, each of them taking killing shots to the head as the lift finished coming open and the return fire began. Mitchell dove across the hallway, from one side to the other, coming up in a crouch, firing another round, killing another target. A bullet hit the concrete ahead of him, kicking dust up into his face. He shifted his aim, shooting again, notching another head shot and stopping the near misses.

  The last guard stood prone ahead of him without firing. Mitchell
got back to his feet and walked toward it.

  "What are you doing with the amoebics?" he asked.

  The guard smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know, Miiittchheeelll? It will be some surprise."

  "Not anymore."

  The Watson ignored the remark. "Did the Primitive lead you here?"

  "The what?"

  "The Tetron Primitive."

  Mitchell realized Watson was referring to the Core. "It suggested it would take you a few weeks to catch on, once you realized Origin's algorithm didn't have a solution." It was almost comical, the way the advanced AI had frozen at the concept of a secret.

  "The-"

  A report interrupted the Watson, and it dropped to the ground with a bullet wound in its head. Katherine moved in beside Mitchell.

  "Do you always have to talk to him?" she asked.

  "Not always," he replied. "Everything's set?"

  "Affirmative."

  "Charlie, we're on our way. Bulldog, what's our status?"

  "I'm out and clear, Colonel," Trevor said. "Looks like you really kicked the hornet's nest, though. Law enforcement is moving in."

  "Yousefi's going to be even more pissed," Katherine said. Their clean operation was getting dirty, fast.

  "Bravo, sitrep?"

  "Free and clear, Colonel," Max said. "On our way to the rendezvous. He's pretty much ignoring us now that he knows where you are."

  "Alfa, this is Charlie. I've got tangos incoming. Nothing that matches known air profiles."

  "Shit," Mitchell cursed, ducking into the lift with Katherine. He slapped the panel, and the doors began to close. He glanced over at her again. "Looks like we're going to have to find another way out. Charlie, bug out. Make sure you keep the bogies off your tail and then hit the rendezvous for secondary pickup."

  "Roger, Colonel," Verma said. "What are you going to do?"

  "Improvise," Mitchell replied, taking the small trigger from his pocket.

  He released the safety and pressed it.

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