Megalodon City Penitentiary, Tundra, Standard Year 403 after founding, New Years Eve

  Alanna expected to lie awake for the rest of the night. To her surprise, the next time she opened her eyes, it was to watch James get up and walk barefoot across the cell towards the sink. Maybe it was her imagination but this morning seemed even colder than the morning before. How cold would it need to get before he was bothered? Although, based on the comments he dropped about bathtubs and unlimited hot water, perhaps he was still somewhat human, after all. Inexorably, the knife now resting securely back in its holster, drew her eye. Short of slitting her own throat, there really wasn’t a whole lot she could do with it.

  Finishing rinsing his hair in the sink, James walked back towards her, kneeling down on the bed. “I saw that.” He said, his voice still thick with sleep.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Are you all right?”

  Alanna nodded, watching him get dressed. The holster went around his ankle before he sat down next to her, his hand stroking the top of her head idly. She had never been in this situation before. There had never been a morning after.

  “I have to go.”

  Alanna nodded again. That made sense. “Are you coming back?”

  “I am. I will try tonight.” He hesitated, as if about to say more.

  “You’ve been grounded a few days now.” Alanna said, surprised by the feeling of dread in her stomach.

  “I have.”

  “I understand.”

  “Will you wish me luck?”

  “Good luck, James.”

  “Thank you. About the asylum interview – you know what they want to hear. And only you know what you can live with. I won’t tell you what to say. Just make it the very best version of the truth you can, all right? Promise me.”

  Alanna swallowed. “I promise.”

  “Good. And it may be that nothing happens before I get back. Just in case, I’m leaving an extra set of keys with Dev. He’ll take you to my apartment if you get released.”

  “Wait, what?” Alanna sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes and trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

  “It’s the best place for you.”

  “I thought there was halfway housing for prisoners. I can go there.”

  “You could. Theoretically. But don’t. It won’t be a safe place for you.” His hand tightened around her hair, winding it around his hand until it came to rest against the back of her head. “Stay with me.”

  No, halfway housing probably wasn’t the best place for Alanna the traitor. “Are you sure it’s all right? It’s your home. You barely know me.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t want you to thank me. I want you to promise you’ll stay.” James said sharply.

  “I wouldn’t have anywhere else to go, would I? Not really. They’d kill me in halfway housing.”

  “Then it should be an easy promise to make.”

  “Why do you keep making me promise things? As of this week, I’m one of the most famous oath breakers in the solar system.”

  “Alanna.” James said, his hands tightening on her hair, tension evident in every line of his body.

  “Fine, I promise.”

  “I have to go.” He repeated, reluctantly. He drew her in for one last kiss, leaving her breathless, until she forgot all the worries swirling in her head and put her arms around him. James withdrew first, his arms still holding her close. “What’s the primary mission objective?” he asked.

  “Stay alive, get asylum.”

  “It’ll do.” He nodded. “I will try to stop by tonight, but I don’t want you to worry if I can’t.

  Alanna nodded, watching him walk out the door and listening for the drop of the tumbler as the lock fell back into place. She was on her own. It was still early, the dim lights of the prison cell had not even begun to brighten, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Her prison greens were dry again and she pulled them on under the blanket, before putting the sweater back on and clearing up the stray crumbs and food around the cell. Everything still fit under the sink and the bread and cheese served as effective cover for the little camp stove. James took away the glass bottle and the spare fuel canister but as promised, he had left her a brand-new can of fuel and, most precious of all, her computer. In the dim light of the cell, Alanna set the screen to minimum brightness to conserve battery power and pulled up Tundra, a History. Rather than continuing on with the story of what the brave dissidents did after coming to Tundra, she pulled up a search window and typed out the word ‘angerona’.

  Four attempts have been made to poison the Tundran water table with vibrio angerona. The first attempt came in the year 271, twenty one years after the first human settlers came to Tundra. It failed. The second attempt was made in the year 302, due to increased tension between Saraya and the growing native Tundran population. The second attempt also failed. Following the Delcaration of Tundran Independence in the year 350 and due to the failure of the two initial attempts, two genetically engineered strains were introduced in the years 352 and infamously, during the unusually warm Tundran summer of 356, where the genetically engineered strain took hold in a local lake.

  Alanna paused, realizing her hand had come up to cover her mouth. She suddenly felt quite ill. Pulling the search window back up, she typed ‘Saraya’.

  Sarayan sabotage of the largest nuclear power plant on Tundra caused a nuclear meltdown on the outskirts of Penguin City…

  Twenty eight died in the Sarayan attack and destruction of the Tundran scientific observatory on Titan ….

  Following the Tundran declaration of independence, the Sarayan fleet’s unprovoked…

  Alanna aised an eyebrow at the ‘unprovoked’, before continuing on.

  …the Sarayan fleet’s unprovoked attack led to the near total destruction of the Tundran space fleet. Mining the Tundran exosphere with nuclear warheads to prevent Sarayan incursion into our airspace proved to be an effective but limited methodology. While Sarayan ships were successfully prevented from directly approaching Tundra, several nuclear missiles successfully penetrated our defenses and one managed to reach its target. Three and a half million people

  She paused again, looking up from the screen. The attack on Tundra had failed. The Sarayan fleet had been decimated. Tundra had taken minimal damage. Sacrifices for the war effort had to be made… with great reluctance, she returned her eyes to the screen.

  … Three and a half million people died in the nuclear attack on Dragon City. For decades following the unprovoked Sarayan attack of 352, we remained virtually grounded, focusing all efforts on the protection of the Tundran civilian population. Even Titan was beyond our reach and control.

  Alanna closed her laptop with a snap and drummed her fingers against the top. There was no point in wasting battery power staring at a lit screen unless she was going to read the text. There was also no way for her to distinguish truth from lies. The death of three and a half million people would be devastating, perhaps even on overpopulated old earth. For Tundra, whose total population at the time must have been fifteen to twenty million, the devastation would have been apocalyptic. If it happened. On the other hand, it would be one hell of a lie to put into a history book. Every child would come to their parents or grandparents to ask if it really happened and no one was likely to forget, one way or the other. More likely, the scope of the damage was simply exaggerated. Could a single nuclear missile truly destroy an entire city? Alanna thought about the way Tundrans built their cities, massive structures all clustered together. Certainly, that layout would leave them vulnerable to even a single nuclear warhead. But perhaps they were not building them that way until their geothermal shielding technology had been developed. She shivered, gritted her teeth, and reopened her laptop, returning to the early settlers of Tundra and diligently continuing with her assignment. Regardless of her views on the veracity of the content, the asylum interview was coming up and she needed to be prepared.

  She looked up at an odd, piercing sound that was not quite a scream. The noise was followed by the sound of footsteps heading down the hallway, along with another unfamiliar noise, an odd, scuffling sound that seemed to come closer and then recede. Hesitantly, Alanna got up and walked up to the barred window in the cell door, trying to approach it from an angle where she would not be fully visible but would have a view down the hallway. She saw Dev first, carrying two paper cups of coffee. The scuffling noise now seemed to be coming from somewhere near his feet. Alanna stood up on her toes to get a better view of the floor and watched as a gray ball of fur released a piercing squeak and tumbled down the hallway, nose to the floor, legs scrambling along the slippery concrete floors.

  “Morning.” Dev said companionably, handing her a cup of coffee.

  “I see Boris the Second has arrived.” Alanna responded, stifling an unexpected grin.

  “That’s Benji.” Dev corrected. “Benji the First if you want to be formal about it, but just Benji to his friends. Do not make friends with him. He’s not supposed to fraternize with the prisoners.”

  Alanna paused, surreptitiously hiding a broken off chunk of bread in the palm of her hand. “Right. You know how I hate making friends.”

  “Good.” Dev nodded. “What’s in your hand?”

  “Um.” Alanna considered. “Nothing?”

  “Then open it up and let’s see.”

  Bemused, Alanna held her hand up to the barred window and tipped her palm, watching the bread fall under the door. With another squeak piercing enough to break glass, the puppy pounced on the bread, trembling with excitement.

  “Dammit Alanna!”

  “I dropped it.”

  “I thought it was nothing.”

  “Nothing but a snack.”

  “You were going to eat a chunk of bread with nothing on it, were you?”

  “It’s a Sarayan thing.”

  “I bet.” Dev said grimly, watching the puppy give the chunk of bread a thorough death shake.

  “He’s not the strong and silent type, is he?”

  “He’ll grow into it, all right? Just give him a few months.”

  Alanna nodded. “Sure he will.” She considered leaning back down for another chunk of bread but Dev’s eyes were laser focused on her.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Hear me out. Maybe the puppy doesn’t need to hate all the prisoners. Maybe, this is an opportunity to teach him how to be more discerning.”

  “Shut up, lieutenant.” Dev said without much rancor.

  “How’s Simon?”

  Dev considered. “All right, you can give him one more chunk of bread. But that’s it, all right?”

  Surprised but not interested in looking a gift horse in the mouth, Alanna reached down and pinched off a chunk of cheese, which would surely be more appreciated by a growing puppy. She threw it down and watched the puppy pounce on it. There was no death shake this time, and barely any chewing. Swallowing the cheese, the puppy ceased its frantic bouncing and sat, sparkling dark eyes now fully focused on her face.

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  “Alanna!” Dev sighed in exasperation. “I said bread. Bread. Damn it, you can’t give him cheese. You know he’ll be your friend forever if you give him cheese.”

  “Sorry. Honest mistake.” She stifled another laugh as Benji diligently escalated from sit to holding up a paw, bright eyes filled with hope.

  “All right buddy, go do your rounds before you embarrass yourself any further.” Dev moved the puppy gently with his foot, until Benji was up again and tumbling down the end of the hallway and back at top speed.

  “He’ll grow into it.” Dev repeated. “Simon’s been reassigned.”

  Alanna took a sip of her coffee. “You seem satisfied with the outcome.”

  “Tundran cave mining. Singularly dangerous and unpleasant but not a guarantee of certain death.” Dev gave her a smile, smug and disturbingly knowing. “Seems Captain Hawk was in a good mood this morning. All in all, I’d say you did good.”

  “I didn’t-” Alanna paused “whatever I did, it wasn’t to get Simon out of trouble.”

  “Well whatever you did, you did good. One minute.” Dev held up a hand as a buzzing sound came from his watch. “I’ll be back.”

  Alanna watched him walk away, still somewhat annoyed by Dev’s twisted interpretation of her actions. The puppy was back under her door, looking at Dev’s retreating back. He shifted slightly, as if thinking of following along, then sat back down, button bright eyes looking back up at her hopefully. Stubbornly, Alanna unwrapped one of her ration bars and dropped a third through the slats of the window. Overjoyed with excitement, the puppy spun in a circle and pounced, capturing the chunk of ration bar securely between his paws. Alanna tried hard not to think about whether there had been dogs living in Dragon City.

  A little while later, as she was finishing the last of her coffee and diligently ignoring the puppy who had now settled under her door guarding god only knew what, Alanna heard two sets of footsteps coming down the hall. The sound of voices also carried, along with – Alanna cocked her head, trying to hear the sound more clearly. Wheels? In fact, it sounded like luggage wheels rolling on a hard floor. Peering out through the bars, she watched Dev and as she could see more clearly, she made out Clara walking down the hall, wheeling a compact carry-on behind her.

  “Clara, your company is always welcome but under the circumstances, I sincerely hope you’re not staying.”

  “With this crew, I just might be tempted!” Clara gave her a wide grin before reaching down to scratch the puppy under his chin. Benji rolled over immediately, all four paws in the air, wriggling in ecstasy.

  “You’re all going to ruin him.” Dev shook his head in exasperation. “This is a Tundran shepherd, you understand? He is bred to guard and attack. Once grown, he will be ready to tear out a man’s throat at the slightest provo…dammit Clara, cut that out!”

  “Just feel how soft his fur is!”

  “I know how soft his fur is!”

  “As you say, Dev.” Clara provided a sketchy salute. “I’m getting distracted from my mission. Alanna, you’re looking well. Prison agrees with you.”

  Alanna looked down, avoiding Clara’s gaze, and the question that came with it.

  Clara frowned as she came closer. “What’s with the bruise? Henry was supposed to make sure you were all right once you’re here.”

  “It’s not uncle Henry’s fault.” Dev spoke up. “It’s my fault.”

  Clara’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Not directly my fault.” Dev added hastily, holding his hands in front of him defensively. “I just… certain information wasn’t communicated to certain people in time.”

  “Their dog died.” Alanna said helpfully. “There was a wake.”

  Clara shook her head in some exasperation. “Dev, I need to speak to Alanna.”

  Without another word, Dev handed Clara the keys to Alanna’s cell and walked away. This time, the dog followed Dev back down the hall.

  Alanna stepped back, watching as Clara came in and allowed the door to close behind her.

  “Are you all right?” Clara asked.

  Alanna nodded, watching Clara take a seat across from her in the cell.

  “It’s clothes.” Clara explained. “James asked me to get you a few things. I don’t think he’s a fan of the Sarayan navy uniform or the prison greens. I would generally stay away from green, if I were you.”

  Alanna opened her mouth to point out that her eyes were green before diplomatically deciding to remain silent. She nodded.

  “I came to talk about the Asylum interview.” Clara said abruptly. “I’m not speaking for James, this one is all me.” Clara paused, taking a breath. “Here’s the thing. We’re at war. And your attitude has been… well it hasn’t been great. You can’t do this halfway. There is no path to neutrality for you. Not one that leads to survival. So, when the time comes Alanna, you had damn well better say the right things.” Clara sighed, exasperation written clearly across her face. “Look, I’m going to deny I ever said this if asked but just lie if you have to, ok? Let’s face it, James has a conflict of interest here. He might not tell you some of the more unpleasant truths. I will. If you want asylum, you need to do a hell of a lot better than that video.”

  Alanna remained resolutely silent. The very last thing she wanted to think about was that video.

  “I’m serious! No more thinking about whether you can stab me with a screwdriver. No more dreaming of escape. There is only one path forward here that doesn’t result in your death and a bloody mess for all involved.”

  “I wasn’t going to stab you with a screwdriver.” Alanna said defensively. She had only considered it very briefly.

  “You had better believe you were not. My graduation year, I won the Tundran hand-to-hand combat competition. For the planet. That’s what it takes to make it on James Hawk’s crew. We are the best. And I will not have you tarnishing our name. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for us. Please.”

  “I…”

  “Don’t say you’ll try.”

  “What else do you want me to say?”

  “Say you’ll do it. James believes you are the best. And James is never wrong. So, you can do this. Just get it together and make it happen.”

  Alanna sighed. When the crew of the Black Hawk discovered the funny math involved in their deal, she knew they came to James and asked him to fix it, just as she knew that he promised he would. Did he at the time already know how he would make it happen? It was hard to say. And yet the promise was made. It was expected. “I will fix this.” she said.

  Finally satisfied, Clara nodded. “You’ll do.” she said. “And I wish you luck.” With those parting words, Clara got up, unlocked the cell door, and walked out.

  With some eagerness, Alanna opened the suitcase and ruffled through the contents. There were several pairs of jeans, thin cotton shirts, and thick sweaters, all in neutral colors. There was a notable absence of anything green. Clara also included socks, undergarments and a pair of low-heeled boots lined with fur. Without much hesitation, Alanna changed out of her prison greens. The fur boots were glorious. Wiggling her newly warmed toes against the fur, she felt as indebted as she was no doubt intended to feel. She could of course stand on principle and put everything back. By taking the gifts, she was accepting the strings they came with. Cooperate. Protect the reputation of the Black Hawk crew. She stared down at the toes of her new boots. She was probably going to do that anyway. Making herself a hot cup of tea, Alanna sat back down on the bed and returned to her reading.

  ---

  As usual, Dev came by at the end of the day before heading out, handing her three ration bars.

  Alanna cocked her head. “I thought I got five.”

  “You’re just going to feed them to the dog. You know this. I know this. You get three.”

  “Fair.” Alanna hesitated. “Hey Dev?”

  “Yeah?”

  She paused again, waffling. “Is it weird to wear the thin shirt and the sweater?”

  “No. That’s how you’re supposed to do it. It’s called layering. Keeps you warmer.”

  “Right.”

  “What? You seem like you want something.”

  Did she? Alanna sighed. “What happened to Dragon City?”

  “Got nuked. Anything else?”

  “Ok but how nuked?”

  “How nuked? All the way nuked, Alanna. All the way millions of people dead and virtually no survivors nuked. Why are you asking this?”

  “Was it really three and a half million?”

  “You’ve been reading that history book, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do the Sarayans say happened?”

  “The Sarayan fleet was decimated before they could make their escape.” Alanna recited diligently. “Tundra suffered…” she hesitated “Tundra suffered minimal damage.”

  “Is that an actual quote?”

  “Yes.”

  “Minimal damage?”

  “Yes.”

  “You memorized Sarayan history books?”

  “I read it and I remember it.”

  “That’s not what happened.”

  “But how do you know? Because the book said so?”

  Dev sighed. “No Alanna, it’s not just because the book said so. The Hodgins are infamously prolific and our family reunions are epic. The total population of Tundra was what, fifteen or sixteen million? I know how many family members we lost. I’ve seen the memorials. That wasn’t minimal damage.”

  “Would you do the same to Saraya? If you could?”

  “Wouldn’t even hesitate. Good night, Alanna.”

  Alanna shivered as she watched him walk away. And for once, it wasn’t from the cold.

  ---

  James watched the fresh morning snow fall outside his office window. The fourth story window was barely above the snowline and at the rate of snowfall, it would be entirely covered by mid-day. The Tundran winter was well on its way, with over twenty feet of snow on the ground. The city roads had become a complex labyrinth of reinforced, ventilated snow tunnels dimly lit by the glow of the sun and warm orange lights. He skimmed his emails and notifications again, noting that orders for his next mission were still conspicuously missing. Completing his scan, he looked up at the faint sound of footsteps coming his way.

  “Robert.” James watched curiously as Robert Nagar, the head of the Tundran Secret Service, walked silently into his office. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  Robert came straight to the point. “You’re speaking with central command in two hours. Your father asked me to brief you before you go in.” He said, closing the door behind him. “Have you scanned the office recently?”

  “This morning.”

  “I’m going to scan it again.”

  “I can activate the EMP emitter if you want to be sure.” James offered.

  “Thank you, no. EMPs and I don’t mix.” Robert Nagar responded politely, continuing his manual scan.

  James raised an eyebrow in surprise at the somewhat odd statement, but otherwise continued to wait patiently until Robert completed the scan to his satisfaction.

  Verifying that no listening devices were in use within the office, Robert sat back in one of the guest chairs, focusing on James. “Your mission success has borne fruit sooner than we expected.” He said.

  “Tom said yes?”

  “He did.” Robert confirmed. “As of today, Operation Black Dragon is officially underway.”

  James nodded. And just like that, a path to shift the balance of power across their solar system opened before them. Many of his contemporaries in the military were uncomfortable dealing with the Secret Service, and James understood why. But the connection between Robert and his family went back to a time before his birth. He remembered hearing that dour, hollow voice throughout his childhood, over dinners at home. And he had always understood, instinctively, the confidence his parents had always placed in this man. If the world turns against you, his mother had once said, go to Robert. He’s a friend. The Hawks and Robert Nagar had risen to power together. To the best of his knowledge, their alliance had never weakened.

  “Sometimes, a conversation with the right person can change the world.” Robert continued.

  “That happened fast.” James said. He liked Robert, but the situation called for caution. “Tom has barely returned to Saraya.”

  Robert settled more comfortably into the chair, his dour voice echoing softly as he spoke. “As we had all surmised, the miners of D12 were less than welcomed upon their return. These are no war heroes. They followed a known traitor, contrary to the wishes of their station’s commanding officer. Naturally, they are viewed with great suspicion by the Sarayan government. Rightfully so, as privately we know it was the miners themselves who murdered Captain Cyrus Mace, not Lieutenant Summers. The threat of public outcry and the exceedingly generous terms of exchange just barely kept the Sarayans from rejecting the miners outright. As you had observed, Tom is… deeply disillusioned with his government.” He paused. “I agree with you James, it is fast. That was not our intent. We sent one of our people to speak with him. It was intended to be an exploratory conversation to better understand where he stood. But Lieutenant Summers chose her second in command well. Tom is a surprisingly astute man. He identified the agent as one of our own and asked her to get to the point. So, she made a judgment call – she got to the point.”

  “And he said yes.” James repeated flatly.

  “He did.”

  “Did your agent threaten Tom?” James asked, his voice carefully neutral.

  Robert Nagar shook his head definitively. “My agent did no such thing. Good faith cooperation is essential. We will not jeopardize that. Tom’s offer was entirely voluntary.”

  “And in return?” James asked.

  “We’re paying him in D12 diamonds. As I’m sure you see, the provenance of the diamonds takes care of itself. You said you believed he could be trusted. If you harbor doubts…”

  James shook his head. “If his offer was voluntary, I trust Tom.”

  “May I ask why?”

  James looked out beyond Robert Nagar’s right shoulder at the snow falling softly against his window. The winter storms were imminent, but they hadn’t arrived just yet. The snowfall was still soft, gentle but unstoppable. He watched as the flakes continued to swirl. The bottom of his window was now buried. In the end, space battles came down to simple arithmetic. One ship versus another. When two ships went up against one, the outnumbered ship was destroyed. Saraya had more people, more resources, more ships. Unless they found a path around that simple math, they were doomed to fail. Operation Black Dragon was one such path. The impediment to Operation Black Dragon had always been getting Tundran people and equipment onto Saraya and Saraya’s moon. Finding people willing to take their money was easy. Finding someone trustworthy, with the right connections, was nearly impossible. Until Alanna. Until Tom. “Tom is loyal to Lieutenant Summers.” James said slowly, aware that he let the silence stretch on a moment too long before responding. “As long as we have Lieutenant Summers, he will not intentionally betray us.”

  “And you are certain of his loyalty?”

  “I am.”

  Robert nodded, accepting the response. “I’m glad to hear it. Because he has requested you, personally. In addition to the terms of payment, Tom made it clear that he will deal with you, and no one else.”

  “My people are military, Robert.” James said with some trepidation. This turn of events was unfortunate, although not entirely unexpected. “This isn’t what we do.”

  “This mission is top priority. If you want any of my people, they are at your disposal. I’m happy to provide recommendations but…” Robert paused. “James your people are the best. And we both know you have crew members with… exactly the right qualifications. I don’t know if we can match that. We can try.”

  James nodded, somewhat grimly. “Give me your best recommendations and let me think about it.” He said. “Tom is about to have a child. Did you know?”

  “I did.” Robert nodded, raising an eyebrow with some curiosity. James had mentioned it during his debrief following the victory on D12. “Does it matter?”

  “It does. If this is to be my mission, you know there will be certain conditions. I want us prepared to get him out. If it all goes bad, I want him, his partner, and their child, to get out.”

  Robert sighed. “James, I don’t think that kid’s been born yet. You want us to smuggle out a pod?”

  “They’ll go after the kid.”

  “We’ll see what we can do.”

  James frowned, remembering once again why many in the military disliked working with Robert and the ISS. But Robert and his father knew James would set his own requirements. They would not make it easy for him but if the request was being made, they were prepared to negotiate. “I want an exit strategy for Tom, his family, and my people.” James said flatly. “Find a way. And I want three ships. The Black Hawk can mount a rescue if needed but we’ll need a distraction before we go in.”

  Robert nodded noncommittally. “I will pass it on.” He said. “We may be able to do it for the moon. Three ships won’t get you off Saraya.”

  “I know.” James nodded, accepting the inevitable. There was no backup exit strategy from Saraya. Saraya, was worth the risk. But not yet. “We do the moon first.” He said decisively. “What did you tell Tom about the equipment?”

  “Communication supplies, to be used for observation. I’m authorized to disclose the true nature of this mission to you and no one else. It’s full blackout on comms for the duration of the mission.”

  James nodded, noting the careful wording. His father may have chosen to disclose the information to others. Certainly, his mother was well aware of Operation Black Dragon. But that was his father’s prerogative, and James would need to accept the risk. “Good.” He said out loud. “I will decide who on my crew needs to be brought in. And Robert?”

  “Yes?”

  “They have to be tactical.” James said flatly. “We can’t effectively shield non-tactical nukes. The radiation footprint is too great.”

  “Is that also a condition?” Robert Nagar asked politely.

  “They all are.”

  “Non-negotiable?” Robert Nagar asked with a slight smile.

  “Those are my conditions, or this won’t be my command.”

  “Well, we all know when you say non-negotiable…”

  “Try me.” James responded, without any humor at all.