The Sea Within Page 4

  “A hundred and twenty thousand years ago doesn’t sound very recent.” The statement almost sounded like a joke, but there wasn’t a hint of amusement in the major’s expression.

  Again, Elle wondered why the Space Force cared about this information. She was puzzled. This meeting didn’t make sense.

  “So, you want to go back to when the planet was warmer. You think you’ll find something there to fix our current problems. Is that about the size of it?” The major sounded so matter-of-fact.

  “Wait, what are we talking here?” What did he mean by going back? Why did they invite her to this meeting if they weren’t going to fully explain what the hell they were talking about? “Going back where?”

  “Not where, but when.” That might have been another joke, but the major’s expression told her it wasn’t.

  But it had to be, right?

  The monochromatic walls of Liam’s office began to feel as if they were closing in. The sparrow-like fluttering of Elle’s heart made her lightheaded. Something big was about to happen, her nervous system registered it even if her mind had no comprehension of what it was.

  “Elle, all the information I’m about to share with you is highly classified.” Liam was somber. “Verbally acknowledge that you understand.”

  “I understand.” She took a breath and tried to focus.

  Chapter Four

  Jackson tugged a clean T-shirt over her head for the ride north. She’d grab a uniform shirt once she got on base. Her efficiency apartment looked more like a budget hotel room than a place where someone actually lived. There were no pictures on the wall, no color to speak of. The apartment was sparse and mostly shades of gray. Even the rumpled blanket on the bed was dark charcoal. There was one small window and she’d draped a towel over the curtain rod. Lame.

  Her phone buzzed just as she reached for the bike fob, right before she angled for the door.

  “Hey, Ren.” She cradled the phone on her shoulder.

  Camille’s sister Renee called Jackson almost once a month, sometimes more often, sometimes less. Ren and Camille had been close, and on some level, Jackson knew Ren’s attachment to her was an effort to stay connected to Camille.

  “Jackson, you didn’t call me back. I was worried.” Ren always worried about her.

  “Sorry, I had a late night.” The truth was, she didn’t want to burden Ren with her depression and lack of a life. Ren didn’t deserve that. Besides, she was sick of listening to herself talk about it. The whole situation was pathetic.

  “I’m going to be in the city in a couple of weeks.” Ren paused. “I was hoping we could meet for dinner or something.”

  “Sure, if I’m in town.” Jackson knew she probably wouldn’t be.

  “Another secret mission?” Ren’s question was playful.

  “Yeah, something like that.” Jackson checked the time. “Listen, Ren, it’s nice to hear your voice.” That was a lie because her voice simply made her think of Camille’s. “But I need to run. I’m gonna be late as it is.”

  “Okay.” Ren sounded disappointed.

  “I’m sorry to cut this short.” She felt bad now for how often she gave Ren the brush-off.

  “It’s all right, I understand. Take care of yourself, okay?” Ren was sweet, genuine. “I’ll get in touch about that dinner.”

  “Okay, sounds good. Bye for now.”

  “Bye.”

  Jackson slid her phone in her pocket and grabbed her jacket and helmet. Her tiny place was on the fifth floor. She trotted down the stairs to the second floor to the encapsulated breezeway that connected the building to the multistory parking garage. The space for her bike was an extra fee per month, not included in her apartment rental. But there was no way you could leave a bike on the street. It would be picked clean for parts if left in the open.

  The windows of the covered connector were smudged and dirty so that you couldn’t really see out of them any longer. The air in the tunnel didn’t smell so good. When she reached the other end, she knew why. One of the panels had a big hole in it. There were shards of glass on the walkway. She scuffed it to the corner with the side of her boot.

  She climbed four flights of stairs in the garage to reach her bike. She unplugged the motorcycle from the charger and stowed the cord in a small compartment behind the seat. She adjusted the re-breather inside the helmet and slipped it on, then popped the shield down. She swung her leg across the bike and braced her feet on either side. For a moment, she closed her eyes and just savored the silent cocoon of the padded helmet.

  She’d moved up to San Francisco from Vandenberg Air Force Base a year after losing Camille. She’d needed a change in every way possible. Everything reminded her of her life with Camille, a life that no longer existed. She initially enlisted in the Air Force, but when the opportunity presented itself, she joined the Space Force. And when Space Operations Command relocated to northern California, she gladly migrated with them. Decades earlier, the Air Force barracks had been located in the Presidio, near the Golden Gate Bridge. But the Presidio was mostly under water now. Command had taken over a bunker about thirty miles north of the city. Jackson had quarters on the base, but she’d decided to keep a small efficiency apartment in the city. Sometimes she needed to get away. And there was no way she could have intimate encounters with women on base. Jackson kept her professional life and her personal life thirty miles apart, literally.

  Jackson felt a tendril of warm air slither down the front of her jacket as she crossed the bridge riding into a headwind off the Pacific. The inland heat kept the Pacific fog bank at a distance. The ride across the Gate, as always, was invigorating. Her system hummed with adrenaline as it always did before a mission, an addictive mixture of anticipation and fear. Yes, fear.

  Jackson was quick to remind her team that fear was their ally. Fear made you sharply aware of danger, and that awareness could be the one thing that kept you alive. The soldier who told her they had no fear was a soldier not to be trusted. Everyone was afraid of something. It was what you did with the fear that mattered. Bravery was nothing more than facing your fear and putting it behind you. Calling it by name and then harnessing the power of it.

  Around her, traffic climbed the Marin Headlands grade, and cars were populated by passengers looking at devices. Tablets and phones added an eerie glow to the interiors of the self-driving autos. Jackson rarely used the AI driving functionality of her motorcycle. Where was the fun in that? An AI driver rarely lane split even though it was still legal. She saw an opening and hit the gas, weaving between two cars.

  Jackson sped through the tunnel. She could hear the roar of traffic bounce off the curved concrete walls even through the padding of her helmet. She let the bike gain speed as she cruised down the grade at the foot of Mount Tamalpais. The California coast was rugged and inhospitable in some spots despite the city’s expansion. Narrow houses crowded the hillsides and filled every inch of space all the way to the shore of the San Francisco Bay, which was higher than it used to be. Miles of beachfront property had been reclaimed by the rising sea.

  A proximity alarm sounded inside her helmet. She instantly braked and a car swerved in front of her, barely missing her front tire. The car rammed into the vehicle in the next lane. Metal scraped metal as the two collided. It was the sort of sound that pierced your chest like a jagged sharp object and then sickeningly splintered to settle into your stomach. It was the sound large things made when they crushed small things. And for an instant, just a micro-flash, Jackson considered letting go. Relaxing her grip, releasing the brake, and just letting go. She’d be swept up with the carnage and it would all be over—the pain, the hurt, the longing.

  But something snapped her out of it. Some glimmer in the deepest recesses of her mind, like a single candle in a dark cavern. Jackson slowed and wove her way to the shoulder. For several minutes she focused on taking long, slow breaths.

  The forward motion of the two mangled vehicles had stopped. Like water in a river avoiding a l
arge rock, traffic flowed around the two cars. They’d come to rest in an embrace of crumpled, heated metal.

  A police drone appeared and hovered over the accident scene and then a second. A siren whined in the distance. AI-driven vehicles altered course to avoid the wreck based on proximity warnings and instantaneous satellite traffic updates. The accuracy of the auto-drivers was perfect, despite the limited visibility coming out of the tunnel. In these conditions AI was a much better driver than most humans.

  The flashing red and blue lights of a squad car emerged over the crest of the hill, followed by an ambulance. Jackson straddled the bike on the shoulder and stared as the white-suited emergency personnel arrived on the scene. The white medical suits sent her mind to dark places.

  The triggered memory took her back to that day.

  It was May and the air had been dry and hot. Technicians wore white Tyvek suits and medical masks as they grasped the corners of the black body bag. The memory of the sound of that long zipper echoed inside her head. The scuff of boots on concrete. Two forensic doctors examined more bodies, to be put in more bags. One of those bodies belonged to Camille.

  Camille.

  The whole area had been quarantined.

  Jackson never got close enough to say good-bye.

  Someone was calling to her now. The man’s voice tugged her back to the present. One of the officers who’d just arrived strode toward her with his hand raised. She took off her helmet.

  “You can’t park there.” He dropped his hand when she held up her military ID.

  “I saw the accident. I just want to make sure everyone is okay.” He stopped within arm’s reach, and she peered around him for a better look. “I can make a statement if you need any additional witnesses.”

  He held her wallet up to take a closer look.

  “So, what are you guys doing up there?” Sometimes her military ID triggered questions.

  “You know, secret stuff.” She shrugged as if she had no idea. “They don’t really tell me much.”

  “Yeah, us grunts never know what’s going on, do we?”

  “Knowledge is power.” There was so much hidden truth in that statement.

  “You said it. And we’ve got none of it.” He handed Jackson her wallet.

  “Do you need a witness statement from me?” She hoped the answer was no.

  “Thank you, but I don’t think it will be necessary.” He rested his hands on his utility belt. Law enforcement no longer carried guns in the traditional sense, but he had a rather intimidating looking Taser. And a breather tethered to his shoulder. He put the mask over his face and took a few hits before continuing. “One of the people involved is taking full responsibility for the crash.”

  “What happened?”

  “Some guy from the BIOME lab…he said the AI driver failed.” The officer frowned.

  “How often does that happen?” She already knew the answer.

  “Never.”

  Jackson nodded, replaced her helmet, and cranked the bike. She watched the crew work the scene as she fastened the chin strap. It was unheard of for an auto-driver to fail. And there were safeguards and backup contingencies in place in case they did. A satellite uplink would immediately take command of the car. If this guy’s AI system truly malfunctioned, then it meant that multiple systems had failed simultaneously. That seemed like a long shot. The guy was probably driving a hacked system or—Well, thankfully, it wasn’t her problem to figure out. If she didn’t make up some time she was going to be late. And she wanted to finish her duty roster and get back to the city early, if possible.

  Forty minutes north of San Francisco, she turned down a two-lane road and stopped at the security checkpoint. The checkpoint was a gated entrance through a nondescript, ten-foot concrete barrier. The fortified wall was surrounded by open fields of dry grass and the charred remains of coastal oaks from the last big fire, the previous October.

  The guard on duty waved her through after checking her ID and cross-referencing it with a retinal scan. Jackson parked in the lot near the entrance to the substation, an underground science and training facility. The rain had stopped, but the scent of damp concrete hung, with a whiff of gasoline, in the air. The base had a certain smell that you could never quite escape. The scent of machines and fuel and anticipation.

  A light-duty transport passed her in the sleek steel tunnel from the entrance as she strode toward her office. She spotted Nikki West standing near the door, trying to look casual. Nikki was a soldier, on duty, off duty, even in her sleep. That’s probably why Jackson liked her so much. She knew Nikki was serious. Nikki paid attention and didn’t take chances. She was always there to watch her back.

  Nikki was five foot six with a muscular build, leaning toward stout, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her compact body. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face into a controlled braid and bun. Her light brown skin was flawless. Guys hit on her while simultaneously being completely intimidated by her. Jackson didn’t fault them. Nikki was a tough woman; she didn’t suffer fools lightly, demanded honesty from those close to her, and was a loyal friend. Nikki was into women, but she took male attention in stride. She sort of had no choice. Men outnumbered women in the Space Force by ten to one. Nikki was Jackson’s number one draft pick for all the missions she led.

  “Captain.” Nikki greeted Jackson with a nod.

  “Good morning, Lieutenant.” They weren’t mission active yet. This wasn’t exactly military operations anyway; this was a different sort of thing, a mix of civilian and military specialists. Nikki followed Jackson into her office. She set her helmet on the corner of her desk and unzipped her leather jacket. “Thanks for the lift last night.”

  “No problem. The National Guard squad was light so I picked up an extra shift. You were the highlight of my night.” Nikki immediately realized how the statement sounded. “That came out wrong—”

  “Oh, so I wasn’t the highlight of your night?” Jackson quirked an eyebrow and tried not to smile.

  Nikki cleared her throat. “I thought you might have details on the next mission.”

  “Not yet, but I’m expecting to get the call any time.” She touched a keypad to wake her computer and glanced up. “Don’t worry. Yours is the first number I’ll call when I get the word.”

  That’s assuming she was in control of the roster. Sometimes it wasn’t her call to make depending on which departments were involved and who was funding the jump.

  Chapter Five

  Elle checked the readout on the treadmill. Almost there. Her heart rate was steady and she’d finished three miles. The run had been good. Her head was spinning with unanswered questions, and the cardio workout hadn’t helped her sort through any of the clues she’d gotten in the meeting she’d had with the director. She was to report to a briefing in the morning, at Liam’s request. If Major Riley was running the meeting, then she expected more cryptic comments leaving her with more questions than answers.

  The atmosphere had too much carbon and the seas were too warm. Pretty much everyone who was paying attention knew that. And that’s basically what they’d discussed today during the meeting. Liam knew all of this data so she had to assume the back and forth was for Major Riley’s benefit. Billions of dollars had been spent to find a solution for extracting carbon from the atmosphere. Spraying particles into the atmosphere, not unlike a volcanic eruption, would deflect solar radiation and cool the climate for a few years, but would have to be done perpetually to fully solve the problem and would do nothing to curb ocean acidification. The vast swath of particles continually pumped into the air would disrupt rainfall. Which would be a disastrous side effect for a planet already short on fresh drinking water.

  The seas were the only engine large enough to repair the damage. That was basically Elle’s thesis in a nutshell.

  Between 1950 and 2090, scientists had measured almost a complete die-off of phytoplankton. The greenies had been so focused on saving the rainforest that they neglected the l
argest group of carbon scrubbers on the planet—phytoplankton.

  Ted had been studying ice cores from Antarctica and she’d cross-referenced them with marine sediments from ocean basins to develop an accurate portrait of Earth’s temperature at certain points in time. They’d discovered a temperature jump that took place over several thousand years, where this time, the warming had happened in barely over a century.

  Elle was breathing hard when she stepped off the treadmill and reached for a towel. Running helped her think. She checked her phone, plenty of time for a quick shower.

  What little information Liam had given her made it sound like she’d be busier than usual the next few weeks. If she wanted to see her friends, she needed to make plans to see them now. This wasn’t a new thing, and luckily her best friend, Jasmine, understood. Sometimes she’d be away collecting samples or surveying a dig for a month at a time. Friendships were hard enough to maintain with a demanding job, so no wonder a dating relationship was nearly impossible.

  Jasmine had suggested a restaurant a few blocks away that they both liked, although Elle hadn’t been there in months for some reason. It wasn’t even that far from her place. One stop on the train or a fifteen-minute walk. The afternoon had been warm, and the temp was still comfortable when she left the apartment building so Elle decided to walk.

  The blocks between her place and the restaurant were an eclectic mix of business and residential. Sometimes both existed in the same building, with a shop or eatery on the first floor and housing on the second and third. Most of the structures in this part of San Francisco were over two hundred years old, brick structures and Victorians built after the big quake. There were small encampments in any open spaces that existed between buildings, makeshift shelters for those who couldn’t afford housing. Even in spaces as narrow as six feet, tents and cobbled together shacks of discarded cardboard and plastic were often erected overnight. The makeshift habitats sometimes were wedged right up against the enclosed pedestrian passageways, long narrow covered sidewalks that offered protection from both weather extremes and poor air quality. Giant air scrubbers created a low humming vibration that you could both hear and feel as you passed through the grubby glass and plexiglass corridors.