Implacable Alpha Read online

  DAW BOOKS PROUDLY PRESENTS THE SCIENCE FICTION NOVELS OF W. MICHAEL GEAR:

  THE DONOVAN SERIES

  Outpost

  Abandoned

  Pariah

  Unreconciled

  Adrift

  Reckoning*

  THE TEAM PSI SERIES

  The Alpha Enigma

  Implacable Alpha

  THE SPIDER TRILOGY:

  The Warriors of Spider

  The Way of Spider

  The Web of Spider

  THE FORBIDDEN BORDERS TRILOGY:

  Requiem for the Conqueror

  Relic of Empire

  Countermeasures

  ***

  Starstrike

  The Artifact

  *Coming soon from DAW

  Copyright © 2022 by W. Michael Gear.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover design by Faceout Studio / Tim Green.

  Cover images: (sword) Derek Adams / Arcangel; (scroll) Zev Radovan / BibleLandPictures / Alamy Stock Photo

  Edited by Sheila E. Gilbert.

  DAW Book Collectors No. 1918.

  Published by DAW Books, Inc.

  1745 Broadway, New York, NY 10019.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780756414580

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

  U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

  —MARCA REGISTRADA

  HECHO EN U.S.A.

  PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

  pid_prh_6.0_140165839_c0_r0

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Also by W. Michael Gear

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Et Cum Vitium Sum

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Ka’aak

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Timor

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Iudicum

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Ennoia

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Victoria et Tza’a

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Epilog

  About the Author

  DEDICATION

  If you Believe In Freedom of Speech and the Unrestricted

  Freedom of Expression

  Freedom of the Press

  and

  Artistic License

  This Novel

  is

  Dedicated to

  You.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Implacable Alpha would not have come to you were it not for the faith, dedication, and industry of our publishers at DAW Books. Since the publication of The Warriors of Spider back in August of 1988, Sheila Gilbert and Betsy Wollheim have been friends, mentors, and partners in our science fiction. To have had their support and collaboration has indeed been a privilege and honor.

  My thanks to all the staff at DAW Books, and I hope to work with them in the years to come.

  We want to offer our appreciation to Cody’s Chamberlin Inn. Elizabeth Scaccia keeps alive the creative spirit that once nurtured Ernest Hemingway. It has become our local retreat where Kathleen and I dissect plot and character. Many of the intricacies of entanglement physics, as well as the plot twists in Implacable Alpha, were solved over a beer and a flatbread.

  As always, special thanks go to Theresa Hulongbayan for her dedication to our work and to our readers on the Facebook Gear fan club. Theresa walks on water!

  ET CUM VITIUM SUM

  I am. A state of being. Beyond that fundamental assumption, nothing can be proved. The philosophers and physicists assure us of that.

  Sum. The Latin verb for “I am.”

  “I am” is the only thing a person can know with any measure of certainty. Beyond that, all is perception. An electrochemical creation within the brain.

  I, however, know something else.

  Et cum vitii sum. Latin for “I am flawed.”

  Because I am flawed, I have reached the highest rank I can achieve. I will never be more than an Imperator. A high commander, second in authority to the rulers of Ti’ahaule. I remain their instrument to command. What they order, I accomplish. That should be my only purpose. My total commitment.

  But I am flawed. I desire.

  And more than anything, I desire the Domina, Nakeesh.

  If the Ahau knew, they would terminate me. They are the Lords, the living and immortal gods. The few remarkable men and women who have transcended every definition of humanity. Physically, mentally, emotionally. They have no tolerance for a character flaw like my ravenous desire to have Nakeesh.

  I entertain these thoughts as I stand on the shore of the Nile and stare out at the river. This is not my world. Not my timeline but one split long ago from my own. The waves that wash the sand are those of the dim and distant past. The silt-opaque waters flow to an ancient sea, on an earth that will never be mine.

  The people I see lifting water to irrigate their crops of teff and wheat by means of ancient buckets hanging from poles are a doomed population from whom no civilization will descend.

  They are condemned by their distant future.

  I turn and watch as Sak Puh, my scribe recorder, or ah tz’ib, studies her cerebrum. She must be seeing the same data that are reflected from my navigator.

  Sak Puh looks up from the glowing blue holo projected above her cerebrum. “The data are clear, Imperator. Your navigator detects nothing from Fluvium or Domina Nakeesh’s devices. There is no evidence that this is the timeline to which they traveled.”

  “But you do detect entangled particles?”

  “I do, Imperator. Somewhere, sometime, in the future, these people will develop the technology.”

  I turn my attention to the five warriors in the quinque. They stand in ranks, being Third Sword, or Tres Gladii. I can see the unease in their eyes. How their bodies have stiffened in anticipation of my next command.

  “Sterilize this place.”

  They know the orders as well as I do. Entanglement physics technology cannot be allowed. Not in any timeline but our own.

  I watch as Publius Atole advances to the edge of the water. He unslings his pack from his shoulder and carefully withdraws a sealed stainless-steel cylinder. He turns the cap a quarter turn and heaves it into the river.

  We hear it pop open as it hits the surface. The virus is exploding into the water where it will be carried downstream to infect all of Egypt. And from there, it will spread, following trade routes, carried everywhere that humans travel.

  Lifting my navigator, I meet Sak Puh’s startled eyes. Together, we extend our fingers to the glowing orbs projected above our devices.

  In an instant, we are falling, feeling that expansive ecstasy as we are transported to yet another timeline.

  Behind us, the virus is loose. Humanity, the great apes, and o
ther primates will be extinct within a century.

  A job well done.

  I wonder if I will find Nakeesh and Fluvium in the next timeline as it begins to form around us.

  1

  Grazier

  General Elijiah Grazier might have only had two stars on his shoulders, but—as he liked to say—he punched well above his rank. His elaborate master bathroom was proof of that. The walls gleamed with polished marble, had a full-length mirror bathed in lights and matching golden Kohler faucets on the sinks, deep tub, shower, and bidet. The two-story house in Georgetown—just minutes from downtown Washington, DC—didn’t look that impressive from the outside, just red brick with white accents. As in all things, it was what lay within that mattered.

  Eli padded across Venetian black-marble tiles and onto the thick carpeting in his walnut-paneled bedroom. Tugging back the blankets on his oversized king bed, he pulled his pajamas straight and checked to see that everything on his nightstand was in order: phone, light switch, flashlight, his glass of water, and the M92 Beretta. The intruder alert button was hidden from sight next to the bed and below the table’s top.

  Hell of a day. But that was Washington. For the time being he had Bill Stevens, the president’s chief of staff, by the balls. And he was squeezing. To Eli’s disgust, President Ben Masters was cautious enough to keep his pit bull in reserve. As much as Eli would have loved to have cut Stevens’ throat and left him behind as roadkill, the president would have disapproved.

  Stevens could be dealt with. That was just “Potomac politics.”

  Eli’s pressing problem was Skientia, the cutting-edge research firm. A team in their New Mexico lab had developed a powerful technology that allowed them to project and analyze entangled particles from the past. Events out in the Los Alamos lab might have momentarily chopped the head off the serpent, but on this new battleground, Eli Grazier needed Skientia’s science and engineering know-how more than ever. That meant he had to rely on Dr. Maxine Kaplan and her engineer, Virgil Wixom.

  Eli trusted Kaplan as much as he’d have trusted a black mamba. Wixom remained an unknown.

  “So, is Kaplan smart enough to take the reins?” he wondered as he slipped his feet beneath the covers and lay back to fluff his pillow.

  But more to the point, could he control her?

  He was reaching to turn off the light when the contralto voice said, “Please do not try anything foolish. And before you reach for your pistol, I can assure you that I took the liberty of unloading it. The intruder alert is disabled as well.”

  Eli froze as a green-eyed woman dressed in black tactical clothing stepped out of his walk-in closet. Her auburn hair had been pulled back in a ponytail. The bone structure in her tanned face was a perfect balance of cheeks, straight nose, and full lips over a strong chin. Were the faint patterns on her cheeks and forehead the ghosts of scars, or just a trick of the light? She stood about five-foot-six and moved with an athlete’s toned grace. Call it predatory. She didn’t need the slung M16 or the knife and pistol on her belt to look dangerous.

  What convinced Eli to behave lay behind the woman’s hard green gaze: something weary, eternal, and strained. He got the distinct impression that she wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet in his brain. That she’d been tested—a lot—and always survived. Wherever she’d been, she’d seen and lived through it all.

  “How’d you get in here?”

  “Let’s just say I go where I want, when I want, to whenever I want.”

  And it hit him. He remembered where he’d seen those hard green eyes: in the Grantham Barracks camera footage. She had been crouched over a dying man’s body in the mental hospital’s underground garage. “You’re the woman who tried to kill Alpha and Ryan that day.”

  “Alpha? That what you’re calling her?” The distaste in her words couldn’t be missed. “Her real name is Nakeesh, and her title in the Ti’ahaule is Domina, not that the term means anything to you.”

  “Sorry about your companion.”

  “He was a good man.” A faint smile. “Rare. In any age.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’ve been called a lot of things over the centuries. Nakeesh calls me the Ennoia. Means the embodiment of God’s first thought. It’s a mystical concept from another age. She and Fluvium once considered it a cruel and sick joke. Most call me Helen, from the Greek ’Elena. As to why I’m in your bedroom? Nakeesh and Fluvium have to be stopped. Here. In your timeline. Once and for all.”

  “Fluvium’s already dead. As to Alpha—”

  “Are you still so limited? Despite what you’ve seen?”

  Fluvium’s not dead? Eli had seen the guy’s desiccated corpse after it had been removed from a three-thousand-year-old sarcophagus.

  The woman calling herself Helen studied him with that flat green gaze, one hand on the rifle slung at her shoulder. “Good. You’re starting to catch on to the whole ‘time’ thing. If Nakeesh contacts Imperator, finds a way to get her hands on Fluvium’s cerebrum, your world and your timeline are dead.”

  “Who’s Imperator?”

  “Your worst nightmare. Not that I give a shit. They’ve taken out better worlds than yours. It’s just that this is the first time they’ve screwed up enough that I’ve got a chance to end it.” With her free hand, she slipped a device from one of the pockets in her cargo pants and tossed it.

  Grazier snagged it out of the air as she said, “Decide if you’re in or out. All you have to do is press the silver button.”

  Grazier glanced down. The thing looked like a pager. Maybe two by three inches, a couple of ounces in weight. A prominent silver button could be seen on the black surface.

  “In or out? You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that.” Ely looked up to emphasize his point.

  Not a trace of her remained. Not even a swaying of clothes back in the depths of his closet. But for the device he held, she might have been nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

  In . . . or out?

  He was about to pull his blanket back when a tingling presaged a crackling in the air around him. His skin prickled like a thousand ants were crawling over his body, and the lights went out.

  2

  Ryan

  My name’s Colonel Timothy Ryan. Normally, I didn’t run meetings where we discussed the safety and security of the world, let alone the future of our entire timeline. I’m still hazy about what a timeline is. Theoretical physics was never my strongpoint. But there I was, staring down the table in the conference room at a team of physicists, Mayan scholars, and engineers. Not to mention General Eli Grazier, my current superior. Wearing his uniform with all its campaign ribbons, the two stars prominent on his collar, he sat in a chair off to the side so as to be inobtrusive. Right. Eli was about as inobtrusive as a crouching tiger.

  My team was in charge of saving the world. It remained surreal.

  I’m a mental health professional with both an MD in psychiatry and a PhD in abnormal psych. I’d spent my life working with service personnel who put their lives on the line for this country. And too often ended up broken and wounded in ways that didn’t leave visible scars. It was one thing to teach a crippled vet how to walk again when he or she had lost both legs. Something entirely different when that person—in an effort to stop the pain—just wanted to end it all.

  Working with mental illness was my passion, both in the service and afterward. It had finally taken me to Grantham Barracks, a low-profile military psychiatric hospital in the pine-covered foothills outside of Colorado Springs, Colorado. My battlefield was in my patients’ heads. Sometimes I won, other times I didn’t.

  Along the way, I’d given up a wife and son, any kind of social life, and my list of close friends could be counted on three fingers. Or was it two? Been a while since I took time to keep track.

  Sometimes the lines between the services got a little blurred back in the day, but nothing like what I faced as I sat at the head of the polished teakwood table in that plush conference room. I was on the opulent second floor of the Skientia lab building in Los Alamos, New Mexico. General Grazier had me fly down special for the meeting. Eli figured that it was time to bring all the disparate parts of the team together. We were three months into the analysis of data following Prisoner Alpha’s “escape.”