slide show rapidly. “What you’re looking at is my proposal for the new and improved CROWN Mark V.”
There it was. Markov had said it, and the room fell insantly silent. Sasha braced for the backlash.
Markov had been a genius since childhood, excelling in math and science at an early age. He’d been discovered by the headmaster of a prestigious school for gifted youth and graduated early to join the United Earth Council’s Department of Science and Research. Markov quickly earned his stripes as the UEC’s top mind. When Mars revolted, he was chosen to find a swift solution.
His idea had been the Carbon-Reinforced OverWear Network armored suit, or CROWN. Using simple neural networking, a single soldier controlled a twelve-foot-tall, armored battle suit. The intent had been to create a weapon any soldier could learn to use.
Too bad it was a disaster.
And everyone in the room knew it.
Markov pressed on, “Using a proprietary method, we can enhance a soldier’s survivability by a factor of—”
Walker cut him off again. “Are you fucking serious? CROWN? Is this a joke?”
Markov’s mouth opened and closed without sound.
Sanders seethed. “I still have nightmares about your last round of tests. One of my men had a seizure when your contraption went into a forced reboot. We found him at the bottom of a lake, sealed into a CROWN suit like it was a goddamn tomb.”
“Please, I know the name isn’t popular, but this is a completely new system.” He flipped through his presentation until he found a series of action shots. “Look, you can see the results clear as day. These suits enable a soldier to run faster, jump higher, and fight longer than any other human in existence. This is the evolution of power armor, and it doesn’t require a license to operate. You could slip one on right now and go fight.”
Markov continued, “And that’s just the beginning. We’re experimenting with new protein-based dermal enhancements to make the human body more capable and adaptable. All I need is a team, a lab, and willing candidates, and I can have a working operations unit in under a year. Send seven of my soldiers into a Red Hammer den and you’ll never worry about them ever again.”
“You’re still using SQUID,” Walker said. “Doctor, let me be blunt. I don’t like this. I don’t like that you’re using century-old tech. I don’t like that you’ve stubbornly refused to try ANGEL networking. And I especially don’t like you wasting this committee’s time when you have zero governmental support.” The admiral rubbed his temples with both hands. “The budget is tighter than ever this year, and you’ve given us no reason to trust you with a single cent. You do understand the reason behind this project, don’t you?”
Markov nodded quickly. “The Martian rebels?”
Walker dropped his head into his hands. “Jesus, Doc. Mars is pacified. That generation has all but died out. Why would we want to prepare for a war we already won?”
“The prompt for this project referenced the Guardian initiative. I just thought—”
“That we were fighting Red Hammer with armored knights? They’re just a grubby militia living out of cheap motels.” Walker sat back and exhaled through his teeth. “Markov, until you get a Councilor on board or the goddamn sky starts to fall, this committee will not pay any more attention to your mad science. You need to go.”
Markov’s head sank. He switched off the projector and collected his things. “I understand, Admiral. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Walker stood along with the other members of the committee. “I don’t think it’s just our time that was wasted here.” The men marched from the room in a single file, disappearing into an annex behind the dais.
The doctor was so busy moping that he barely registered movement by his shoulder bag. He nearly shouted when he saw Chief of Staff Ahmad leafing through his notes.
“Sir, I’m so sorry,” Markov said. “You startled me.” He took a moment to catch his breath. “I didn’t know the Federate government was watching this project so closely.”
The chief of staff nodded but didn’t look up. “The office of the high chancellor has no interest in wasting money on defense projects, especially when our greatest threat is a psychopath from Mars.” He glanced at the trembling scientist. “Relax, doctor. I’m on your side. I think CROWN never really got a fair shot. Then again, I didn’t watch three men’s brains melt when they tried to wear it. How much field testing have you done?”
“Tons,” he offered quickly. “My team is small right now, just six of us, but we’ve been making some incredible advances with the tools available.” He fidgeted. “Titan is a great place to build ships, but the facilities there are lacking in the proper equipment for my needs. Please, give me a small space on New Eden. I guarantee the results will astound you.”
The chief of staff shook his head. “Out of the question. As far as the Joint Chiefs are concerned, this is the last time this project will ever see the light of day. Understand?”
Markov felt ill. “I do.”
“Good. Now go back to your hotel and clean up. I want you ready to present this to the Centurial Council in a few days.”
“What?”
“We’re voting on funding to new Special Projects. If you can make a better case, this might just pass muster. And for god’s sake, change the fucking name. Everyone in the four systems knows about CROWN.”
Markov bobbed his head up and down. “I’m actually headed to Kronos after this. I want to catch the end of the Crucible. Perhaps I’ll find some new test candidates for CROW—for my power armor. I’ll write a new report tonight on the flight over.”
Chief of Staff Ahmad held up a hand. “No rush. Just get me something good to present to the high chancellor. He could use the win.” He walked toward the door where his assistant, the young redheaded staffer, waited. “And I’m serious about keeping this quiet. As soon as people hear about new defense projects, they act like the sky is falling.” He paused at the door. “And enjoy your trip to Kronos. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”
Kronos
Third Moon of New Eden
Eros System
Kronos was hell.
From orbit, the medium-sized moon was a uniform brown, broken only with canyons and mountains. What little water existed on the planetoid was buried deep in the ground, accessible from the many wells built on the surface. It was a place where no human would ever dream of living.
Naturally, it was the Army’s favorite training center.
While the citizens of nearby New Eden went about their days, the soldiers of the 185th Combined Arms Battalion endured the Crucible. For five months straight, the mixed units trained in high intensity combat. Wearing advanced simulation gear, they fought for every inch of defendable dirt in a hundred-square-kilometer arena. Aside from bragging rights, the top performers could hope to join the ranks of the infamous Black Adders, or maybe earn a coveted slot for Team Hercules.
The slow rotation of the moon meant thirty-hour
