The Machine Awakes by Adam Christopher Read Free Book Online Page A

the leverage to stage a takeover?”
    â€œPerhaps it is just as well you don’t have clearance,” he said quietly. “I wish we’d never conceived of the mission. Never made contact.”
    Avalon took the bait. “Contact? The creature Zworykin was talking about?”
    Sebela looked away, the light of the desk lamp casting the side of his face into a deep shadow, his eyes glittering in the gloom.
    â€œIzanami…” he said.
    Avalon watched him carefully. It seemed like he had stopped blinking, stopped breathing.
    â€œSir?”
    Then he turned back to the light, and she saw tear tracks running down his cheeks. “If you don’t mind, Commander, I have a speech to write.”
    He didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes from her face. She drew breath to speak, then thought better of it. She stood and snapped a salute.
    He nodded in acknowledgment. “Commander.”
    â€œSir,” she said. Then she turned and marched out. At the double doors of the office, she turned around, but the Fleet Admiral had moved back to where she had found him, standing by the window wall, looking out at the city at night, the light on his desk dimming automatically to nothing.
    There were two marines on guard outside the doors. Avalon glanced at the men who stood motionless, their rifles held crosswise in front of them, their faces invisible behind the visors of their combat helmets. On their chests were the inverted black triangles of the Psi-Marine Corps.
    Avalon left as quickly as she could, unwilling to risk anyone else sensing her deepest, innermost thoughts.

 
    4
    Caitlin wiped the rain from her eyes and leaned back into the tree. The bark was rough but soft when she pressed the back of her skull into it. Her arms loose by her sides, she trailed her fingertips over the bumpy surface behind her, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the tactile sensations of the tree, of the rain on her face and the way the rain collected around her eyes, which felt hot.
    There was silence in her mind. Her brother hadn’t spoken to her since this morning. And she’d had no message from her contact either. But that was okay. The mission was still a go. She took a moment to focus, to center herself, like she’d been taught at the Academy. A warrior’s mindset was as vital as their physical prowess. She had a job to do, a mission to complete, and complete it she would. The only difference now was that her orders weren’t coming from the Academy instructors.
    She opened her eyes and leaned around the tree to see down the hill, toward the Fleet Memorial.
    People were gathered already on the tiered seating that stretched ten rows back, an undulating mass of blue and olive Fleet uniforms, most glinting with chrome and gold, rising up against the huge creamy stone wall that arced like a half-buried seashell, its surface inscribed in microtext with the names of the war dead. At the front center was a lectern, and in front of that the caskets were arrayed, each draped in the flag of Fleet Confederacy. There were just six, but the number was merely ceremonial. The annual Fleet Memorial culminated, after the Fleet Admiral gave his eulogy, with the interment of hundreds, if not thousands of fallen personnel, their remains repatriated from every corner of Fleetspace. These burials happened daily, of course, but once a year the routine became ceremonial and symbolic. Fleet Day was a day of remembrance for everyone.
    In front of the caskets, the temporary stage dropped down, its edge lined with marines in full dress uniform. Then the dignitaries and invited families of the fallen, facing the lectern, their backs to Cait’s position. Then the general public. And at the back, closest to Cait’s vantage point, but still more than a kilometer away down the gentle slope of the hillside, were the media, reporters, producers, and technicians alike hustling for position as drone cameras hovered over