Bobbie shrugged. “If the time wasn’t so short, I’d do something simpler.”
“All we need is the right bomb, the right place,” Saba said. “You give us those, and we take the mission from there.”
“No,” Katria said. “You need the charges, you need someone to put the charges in the right places at the right time. And need someone on the remote switch who doesn’t panic and throw it a little too early and take out your team. And even if they don’t, do you think someone in a rad shelter’s going to live through that blow?”
Naomi cleared her throat. “They’re rated for it. But you’re right. We can’t know until we try.”
“What’s the evac plan once your little Armageddon is over?” Katria asked.
It was more than Bobbie had wanted to say. There should be some parts of the plan that weren’t being shared. Saba paused, weighing whether to bring Katria that far in. When he spoke, his voice was surly. He didn’t like having his hand forced any more than Bobbie did. “Vac suits in the shelter. Go out through the hole. Same airlock we used to bug the line the first time, we use it to get back in.”
Katria took control of the model again, turning it, moving through the lower reaches of Medina deck by deck. “It’s going to kill people,” she said. “When the engineering decks start breathing vacuum, not everyone’s going to make it to the shelters.”
“Savvy,” Saba said. “Has a price.”
“Is it one you’d pay?”
“Is,” Saba said, but Holden’s expression had a distance to it. Bobbie could tell what was in his mind. There could be innocent people on the decks when the time came. At best, their plan would risk them. At worst, some would be killed. If Saba and Katria were bothered by the idea, they didn’t show it. Holden was bothered by it. She wondered if he’d stand on principle and scrub the whole thing. It was even money, knowing him.
“Demolition team goes here,” Katria said. “Plant the charges, then fall back to the shelter and wait for the team with the stolen data to arrive, then blow it. Everyone leaves together, or no one does. It’s not my first time on an op like this. You’ll need a couple more vac suits, is all.”
Bobbie didn’t catch the important word until Clarissa spoke, her voice gentle and questioning. But Bobbie heard the sharpness under it. “Your first time on an op like?”
“Who else?” Katria said. “If you want it done right, you get the best to do it. I’m the best. I make the charges, I place the charges, and it’s my steady hand holding the detonator.”
The room was quiet apart from the soft hiss of the air recyclers and the soft, harmonic thrum of the ship. The hint of old sewage smelled a little worse. Saba had only wanted the Voltaire Collective involved for material support. They weren’t looking for another player when the operation took place. But telling Katria she couldn’t be active in the field … would it insult her? And if it did, would that be enough to get her to turn on them?
“Sounds good,” Amos said. “You and me on the demo team, Miss Kitty.”
His smile was placid and empty. Bobbie felt a shock of alarm. She met Holden’s gaze and shook her head a millimeter. This is a very bad idea. Holden swallowed, nodded, forced himself to smile as well.
“All right, then,” Holden said. “Clarissa leads the support team on environmental controls for Alex. Alex pilots in the drone swarm. Bobbie and Naomi take care of the server, and Katria, Amos, and I will set the charges to cover it all up afterward.”
Bobbie leaned back, a lump forming in her gut. Adding Holden in was not a better solution.
“This’ll be great,” Holden said.
Chapter Thirty: Singh
SOL OPERATION NEARING COMPLETION. PREPARE INITIAL SHIPPING AUTHORIZATIONS.
Singh read Trejo’s message over twice, joy blooming in his chest. He took a moment to send the order to his section heads and group commanders, and pulled up what everyone jokingly called the “occupation calendar.” Even based on the amended projections from Laconia that included not pausing to rebuild the battery, the immediate transit of the Tempest to Sol system, and the early deployment of the Typhoon, they were weeks ahead of schedule. They’d built some flex into the schedule in the event that the Transport Union put up a more bitter fight to hold Medina, or the Earth-Mars Coalition Navy had revealed naval forces or technology significantly greater than their estimates. But neither thing had turned out to be true, and sooner than anyone expected, they could get down to the business of building the new human civilization.
The sad fact of the human species that High Consul Duarte understood so well was that you could never overcome tribalism and jingoism with an argument. Tribalism was an irrational position, and it was impossible to defeat an irrational position with a rational argument. And so, instead of presenting a logical plan for why humanity needed to give up the old national and cultural divides and become a single unified species, the high consul obeyed the old forms that everyone would understand, and went to war. Thankfully, a brief one.
The real work, the work that would let Elsa grow up in a universe that was safe for her, and for her children’s children’s children, was the work that came after the conquest of the rest of humanity. Work that required stability.
“Ensign,” Singh said at his monitor, which was currently flattened out on his desk. He’d appointed a temporary replacement for Lieutenant Kasik, and he hadn’t quite memorized her name yet.
“Governor?” she replied a moment later.
“Please send my compliments to President Fisk, and let her know we’re sending a cart to pick her up. I need an immediate meeting to discuss some urgent matters. Do not take no.”
“Yes, sir,” the ensign replied. “I also—”
“Right away, Ensign,” Singh said, then took a look around at his office. The flowers someone had placed in a vase on his corner table were dying, and the shelf that held his coffeemaker was a mess. “Also, send in someone to make fresh coffee and replace these flowers before the meeting.”
“Yes, sir. I wanted to also let you know that you have an incoming message from Laconia. The Storm just sent it over.”
“Send it through. And please let me know five minutes before President Fisk arrives.”
“Of course, sir,” the ensign said and then killed the connection.
Singh tapped on the glowing message button on his monitor and it projected a still picture of his wife holding Monster.
“Play message,” he said.
The still image sprang to life. The recording must have started midway through her expression, because Nat’s face went from an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile to her normal wide grin. Monster didn’t seem all that interested in the camera lens, and instead was focused on something over her mother’s shoulder. They were both beautiful, and Singh felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach that was always there, but that he managed to ignore until he saw their faces.
“Hi, Sonny,” Nat said to the camera. She held up Monster’s hand and waved at the screen with it. “Say hi to Daddy.”
“Hi, sweetie,” Singh said to the recording like an idiot. He couldn’t help himself.
“I know you’re so busy right now, but we have some good news to pass along,” Nat said. She put Monster down, and the girl ran off out of frame. Singh felt irrationally disappointed to see her go. “My work with sheep modification has been approved for the next round of live testing. We could go wide with it in the next thirty months. Which means a posting to Medina would actually help me move the project forward. No pressure, or anything.”