Wormhole (The Rho Agenda #3)(41)

But why had the Altreians purged the military record of how these planets died? If the Kasari had been responsible, then surely the data would have been maintained. Even if the Altreians had managed to crush the Kasari after they had assimilated the planet’s inhabitants, it would have counted as a victory. So something else had happened. Something they wanted to hide.

At this point, Jack interrupted the telling. “So what do you make of it?”

Jennifer hesitated a second before speaking. “I think if the Altreians decided they were about to lose a world, they attempted to kill the entire population before the gateway could be completed.”

As much as she hated the idea, Heather found herself nodding in agreement. Mark’s silence spoke for itself.

“So how did they do it?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” said Jennifer. “All that data got wiped.”

Heather shifted in her seat. “I doubt the Altreians ever loaded that into the Bandolier Ship’s database.”

Janet turned toward Mark. “What about the AI?”

“It was a no-show. No sign of it at all, and I was looking.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Mark.

Jack rose, moving to the edge of the porch, looking toward the east, where a sliver of the full moon peeked over the horizon. If someone had painted little hands below it, it would have looked like a neon “Kilroy was here” drawing.

“We’re in a tight spot.”

“About to get tighter,” Heather said. “I think Stephenson was behind the November Anomaly, probably using the Rho Ship to generate it. Now he’s going to use that as the reason the world’s governments need to build the gateway. What really sucks is if we stop this Rho Project, the black hole will eat our planet. If we don’t, either the Kasari horde pours through or our beloved Bandolier Ship toasts us all.”

“That’s one thing I don’t get,” Mark said. “Now that the AI is gone, we have complete control over the Bandolier Ship’s computers. I didn’t detect anything that would be some sort of trigger for a self-destruct system or anything remotely like that.”

“And we don’t have any idea what really happened on those dead planets,” Jennifer added. “It might have been the AI triggering things or, considering the people who’ve worn that headset, it might have been the fourth crewman.”

“Careful.” Janet’s voice, low and soft, eased through the night air like a stiletto. Heather had forgotten how intimidating she could be, and apparently Jennifer had too.

Realizing the implication of her words, Jennifer hastily continued. “Sorry. I forgot. Anyway, it can’t be that. Robby’s just a baby.”

In the moonlight, Janet’s eyes flashed a silver reflection. Then, without a word, she walked back into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind her, leaving a lump in Heather’s throat and a dull ache in her heart. It seemed she just couldn’t alter the destiny that made her hurt everyone she cared about.





Navy Lieutenant Gordon Morrow lifted the night-vision goggles from his eyes. With this level of moonlight, his platoon wasn’t going to need them much tonight, at least if the actions stayed out of the deep bush. If everything went according to plan, they wouldn’t be going into any deep bush on this mission. Of course, in his year and a half commanding SEAL Team Ten’s First Platoon, things had yet to go according to plan. And tonight his platoon was going to take down Jack “the Ripper” Gregory, so this wasn’t likely to be the first time.

Lieutenant Morrow excelled at two things, mission preparation and mission execution. The first of these had led him to study everything known about the Ripper’s life, from the little boy who had watched his father’s beheading in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, to the man who had become the CIA’s most feared killer. Then, after Jack’s own agency had turned him out in the cold, he’d built upon that reputation as a private contractor, finally attracting the attention of NSA director Admiral Jonathan Riles. Riles had successfully recruited Jack to the NSA, and subsequently attempted to harness Gregory’s talents to bring down the Rho Project. That action had spawned the sequence of events that had brought Jack and Lieutenant Morrow to this moment. Now, in a fitting twist of fate, Jack the Ripper and his protégée, Janet Price, were destined to replay Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’s final Bolivian act.

Circling his right arm above his head, Morrow brought his team in tight, so that he could pass along the perimeter in one direction while his chief went the other way, physically touching and double-checking each man, a last personal check that told them more than all the high-tech gear designed to show each man’s location and mission status could ever do.

The High Altitude Low Opening (HALO) jump had gone perfectly, landing the team in an isolated clearing a little over two kilometers from the GPS coordinates marking the location of the Frazier hacienda. When they had stowed the high-altitude breathing apparatus, chutes, and excess gear, Lieutenant Morrow had been pleasantly surprised that the night jump had yielded nothing worse than a few minor scratches to any member of his sixteen-man team.

Now they were ready, GPS coordinates marking the objective assault positions for each special operator along with the tight grouping of symbols that showed their current positions.