Paula’s u-shadow reported a small nonregister subprogram that had been grafted onto the case’s opacity routine that would terminate the whole suspension as soon as anyone looked in on the occupant. I should have guessed there’d be a trip. Typical Cat, paranoid clever. “I’m afraid you’re not negotiating from a strong position.”
The second Cat sat up. “Aren’t we?”
“No.”
“Paula Myo herself,” said the third Cat. “We must have been doing something bad to warrant your personal attention.”
“Of course we have,” said the fourth.
“It is what you do,” Paula admitted to them. “But now you have to go back into suspension so the court can ascertain what to do with you.”
“Been there,” said the sixth.
“Done that,” said the second as she slipped nimbly over the rim of the case.
“Bored with it,” the fifth emphasized.
“You’re interfering with my investigation,” Paula warned them. Two combatbots glided into place on either side of her.
The first Cat to waken grinned her effusive grin. “Is this supposed to be a covert mission, Paula? Are you creeping around here to try and see what’s going on?”
“My dears, I do believe she is,” said the third.
“Shit,” Paula grunted, and rolled her eyes inside her armor helmet. This was the Cat, after all. All that time and effort sneaking in here …
As if they’d read her mind, all seven Cats configured their biononic energy currents to full weapons function. The combatbots opened fire. Paula teleported out. The Alexis Denken’s smartcore activated its weapons systems and hardened the fuselage force fields. Paula sat down fast in the couch. Active sensors swept out.
The fight in the suspension compartment was almost over. The Cats had lost; against the level of firepower carried by the combatbots, the outcome was inevitable. But that wasn’t the point, as they’d well known. The damage to the compartment and the base’s surrounding structure was substantial. Emergency systems were just starting to deploy. The staff and the orbiting sentry vehicles knew their security had been breached. Paula had a good idea what they would do next. Ilanthe was just as ruthless as the Cat, and she knew the Accelerators couldn’t afford to leave any evidence behind.
Sure enough, barely five seconds after the fight between the Cats and the combatbots, four of the sentry vehicles were swooping down toward the ice moon at high acceleration. Their multiple sensors probed the base on high intensity, exposing the combatbots. Paula’s u-shadow tried to crash the base network, but two of the staff established personal secure links to the incoming sentries.
All of the base’s protective force fields switched off. The Alexis Denken teleported above the cross of cool metal, assuming a defensive posture. Gamma lasers and disrupter pulses hammered down from the approaching sentries. Explosions ripped through the base’s skin, sending huge plumes of superheated gas jetting out into space. Paula winced at the damage they’d caused and fired three m-sinks up at the sentries. They began evasive maneuvers, twisting and varying acceleration with an elegance she’d never witnessed before; the way they slipped fluidly through space was almost organic. Their fuselages seemed to adapt with them, distorting to absorb the constantly shifting acceleration vectors. One actually managed to elude an m-sink, driving down at forty gees. Kamikaze impact, Paula realized. The Alexis Denken rose to intercept it, firing another two m-sinks.
High above, an m-sink punched clean through one of the sentries, its colossal tidal forces imploding the internal structure in microseconds. The wreckage spun uncontrollably. More m-sinks tracked their prey skillfully. Energy weapons lashed across the base, partially deflected by the Alexis Denken. It was actually looking as though Paula might manage to preserve some of the base.
A phenomenal blast of raw multispectrum energy from behind the ice moon deluged the Alexis Denken’s sensors. A flare of blue-white light irradiated the fuselage, as if a sun suddenly had blossomed into existence. Its corona erupted around the ice moon at relativistic speed.
“Shit!” Paula yelled. Quantumbuster!
The ice moon detonated. The Alexis Denken fled into hyperspace, racing away from the colossal mass energy explosion at fifty light-years an hour.
“Shit shit shit,” Paula growled at the readings flashing across her exovision. The four attacking sentry vessels had just been a diversion. One of the others had deployed behind the ice moon to ensure there was no evidence left. “Crap. I’m old and slow. I should have known.” She opened a link to ANA: Governance. “I’m sorry. My stupidity just lost us our one tangible lead.”
“You are being too hard on yourself.”
“No. What a professional would have done was examined whatever was in those main chambers first. Given its energy demand, it had to be some kind of manufacturing operation. But oh, no, I went and acted on my obsession.”
“You have verified that the Accelerators are using the Cat.”
“Stop trying to cushion me. Somebody is using the Cat; we have no proof it is the Accelerators. And even if we did, that isn’t enough for you to enact their suspension. I need to nail them with conspiracy and treason.”
“Paula, you are letting self-anger dominate. This aspect of your investigation has one link remaining: Chatfield.”
“Damn it.” She wanted to kick herself. Her u-shadow opened a link to Digby.
Cleric Conservator Ethan sat alone behind his polished muroak desk in the oval sanctum, his eyes closed against the bright starfield visible through the high Diocletian windows. One day soon, he knew, he would sit in the real oval sanctum, and that very same window would reveal the Void’s splendid nebulae glowing across the night sky. When that happened, days like today would simply be banished from existence, and he would live an easier, gentler life. In fact he wouldn’t even be a Conservator or even a cleric. It often amused him to wonder who on the Council had considered that aspect of their cause. Once they were inside the Void, they would have achieved their goal and there would be no more Dreaming Void movement. All of them would be ordinary Querencia citizens. Giving up their positions would be hard on some, he knew. They would warp their world to make themselves District Masters or worse. But the Waterwalker had shown that even such self-indulgence would come to nothing. All would come right in the end. The Skylords would carry them all to the Heart. He couldn’t imagine just how splendid that would be, especially in comparison to today.
Cleric Phelim had called five hours earlier to tell him that they’d located Araminta; she was in Bodant Park right outside the apartments she owned. A mere five seconds later Ethan had felt her mind’s angry dismissive cry resonate throughout the gaiafield. That worried him more than he would ever admit to anyone, even Phelim. Why would someone chosen by the Skylords reject Living Dream so comprehensively? He’d felt her naked emotions, experienced how deep her revulsion for their goal truly was.
Then biononically enriched agents had fought a small war in Bodant Park, a war given total coverage across the wretched unisphere. Honilar’s welcome team had been killed, and they were tough operatives. Ethan knew that; he’d authorized their enrichments and training himself. The aftermath had left him deeply shocked. So many dead, more injured. He had prayed to the Lady for guidance and forgiveness.
His prayer was cut short by the Speaker of the Senate calling, demanding that he end Viotia’s occupation and turn over Living Dream’s paramilitaries for an independent trial. Ethan’s rather reasonable observation that the carnage had been caused by representatives of ANA factions was ignored. The Speaker said that the Security Commission was preparing a resolution that would allow the navy to intervene if any further human rights violations occurred on such a level. Ever since Ellezelin’s Senator had walked out of the Senate after the condemnation of the Viotia invasion, repudiating its authority as he went, Ellezelin was technically no longer part of the Commonwealth, and therefore the navy’s noninternal deployment restriction didn’t apply.
There was only one person Ethan could ask for reassurance in such circumstances, and he hesitated to do that. The last thing he wanted right now was to be forced further into reliance on Marius.
Phelim’s curt, apprehensive assurances that Bodant Park was just a temporary setback failed to impress him. Ethan had now accessed every scrap of information that ever existed on Araminta. He was deeply suspicious that she’d spent a weekend at Likan’s mansion. Likan of course claimed complete innocence, saying that she was just another recruit for his harem. After Bodant Park, Ethan had given Phelim permission to bring Likan in for a full memory read. It would be just like that supercapitalist to try to manipulate things to his personal financial advantage. If Araminta’s background was as simple as the records claimed, there was no conceivable way she could have eluded Honilar and the other agents the way she had. An entire planet had been invaded with one purpose: to find her. The resources he’d deployed were using up an appreciable percentage of Ellezelin’s gross planetary product. There had never been a manhunt on such a scale in human history.
Somebody was helping her; Ethan was fairly sure it had to be ANA. That subtle interference was bringing about some serious complications to the goal of Pilgrimage. He wasn’t sure how he should attempt to counter them.
The Ellezelin civil security alert was totally unexpected. Ethan’s exovision suddenly was swamped with a flock of red icons. Five fully armored guards from the Cabinet Security Service hurried into the oval sanctum as force fields shimmered on around the Orchard Palace. More exoimage graphics showed him sequential protective domes powering up to protect the core of Makkathran2, then the greater civic zone. The alert was originating in the civil spaceflight agency. Something was happening in orbit above Ellezelin.
“Sir,” the Security Service detail leader said. “Please accompany me to your safe refuge.” A circle of the floor was expanding to reveal a gravity chute.
Hardly authentic, Ethan thought idly, although technically the Waterwalker’s rapport with the city did allow him to pass through solid floors to the tunnels below.
Two of the Security Service detail jumped into the chute, where manipulated gravity sucked them away fast. Ethan followed them down. To increase the irony of the situation, the fall was similar to the way Edeard had flown along Makkathran’s travel tunnels, except here Ethan was going feet first.
He dropped out of the chute into a deep shelter half a kilometer below the city. The refuge was a circular chamber with glass walls that partitioned off smaller cubicles and offices. His presidential office was already illuminated, but the others were all unoccupied and dark. A startled skeleton team of security agency staffers were scrambling to build up a situation overview in conjunction with the refuge’s smartcore.
“What have we got?” he asked.
“Energy discharges in orbit, sir,” the defense agency colonel reported. “A thousand kilometers up; that’s in the parking ring. And sir, it’s high-level weapons fire. The emissions are sophisticated. We think it was two ships, both in stealth mode; we didn’t even know they were there until they started shooting at each other.”
“Are they attacking the surface?” Ethan’s immediate thought was of the Pilgrimage fleet, still under construction and supremely vulnerable.
“No, sir. As far as we can ascertain, it’s just the two ships engaging each other. No new discharges for the last ten seconds, so it’s probably over.”
“That fast?”
“Yes, sir,” the colonel said. “Modern engagements are quick and decisive. The power levels in the weapons guarantee that.”
“So can we get a clear image now?”
“We’re trying, sir, but our civil sensors aren’t built for this. Nearby ships have been destroyed; there’s a large wreckage field that’s expanding rapidly. We’re alerting urban areas along the fallout track.”
“How many ships destroyed?” Ever since he’d announced the Pilgrimage, wealthy Living Dream followers had been arriving in their personal starships, thinking they could take part in the flight to the Void. The last time he’d inquired, over three thousand were in parking orbit above Ellezelin.
“Over twenty confirmed destroyed, probably fifty damaged. Fatalities unknown.”
“Lady,” Ethan groaned. “So do you have any idea who the protagonists are?”
“No, sir, sorry.”
“Has the Commonwealth Navy called your agency?”
“Not yet.”
“Kindly get in touch with them and formally report this conflict. I’ll be interested in their opinion.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ethan’s worry was that the conflict in Bodant Park somehow had spilled over to Ellezelin. The fact that the ships were stealthed was a good indication that faction agents were in orbit, presumably in a last-ditch attempt to retrieve the Second Dreamer for their own purposes. Again, he hesitated to call Marius.
“Sir,” the colonel said. “Backup sensors are coming online; we’re getting some situation clarification. One ship survived intact. Tracking a great deal of debris.”
“A victor, then,” Ethan said as he accessed the defense agency network. An image of a small ship appeared in his exovision, a smooth ovoid surrounded by a force field’s electron-blue shimmer. He knew enough about modern hardware to recognize the type favored by faction representatives and ANA agents. “So which are you?” he murmured. “See if you can establish a link with them,” he instructed the colonel.
The colonel never got to try. Ethan’s exovision threw up a communication icon he didn’t expect. He let the call come through as he walked into his slick modern office. Two members of the armor-suited Security Service detail took up position beside the door. Privacy shielding enveloped the room.
“Good evening, Cleric Conservator,” ANA: Governance said.
Ethan settled into a chair that shaped itself to his contours. “I take it you’ve monitored the fight above Ellezelin.”
“Indeed.”
“Does the navy know what’s going on?”
“Admiral Kazimir has been informed.”
“Who are they?”
“One of the ships is piloted by an agent working for my security division.”
“I see. Is he the survivor?”
“Fortunately, yes.”
“And the loser?”
“Someone suspected of high treason.”
“High treason?” Ethan didn’t know if he should be amused or not. “That sounds very dramatic.”
“This is classified information, but as a courtesy I will tell you we have discovered that the Ocisen Empire fleet on its way to Ellezelin is accompanied by Prime warships.”
Ethan sat perfectly still. For a second he thought the communication link might have malfunctioned somehow. “Prime?” he asked, glad he had closed his gaiamotes. His shock impulse would have startled the staff working outside.
“Quite,” ANA: Governance said. “As you can imagine, we are extremely concerned by the development.”
“Was that a Prime ship in orbit?”
“No. However, we believe there was a connection. Fortunately, my agent managed to avoid completely vaporizing the suspect’s ship, no small achievement given modern weapons. I am dispatching a forensic team to examine the wreckage. I need to know what the suspect was carrying.”
“I see. Can we help?”
“Yes. Please quarantine the orbital wreckage until my team arrives. No one else is to touch it. My agent will remain in orbit; he has orders to open fire on anyone who contaminates the scene.”
“I understand. I will order my defense agency to establish the quarantine zone.” As he spoke, the sensors showed him the ANA ship gathering fragments with coherent gravity pulses, pulling them out of decay paths that would have taken them down to the atmo sphere.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Cleric Conservator. This is not an easy time for the Greater Commonwealth. I hope that when this situation is resolved, Ellezelin’s Senator will resume
his seat.”
Ethan didn’t bother to point out that Commonwealth politics and renewed Prime aggression would be irrelevant to anyone inside the Void. “Can the navy stop the Ocisen invasion fleet?” he asked.
“Yes. It can and it will.”
“Thank you.”
The call ended, and Ethan sat back, only just realizing how badly his muscles had tightened. A headache was building behind his eyes; they were frequent now even though the last of the semiorganic auxiliaries had been removed. His doctors warned him it would still take time for his brain to recover fully. He waited a moment, gathering his thoughts, then called the defense colonel in. “The surviving ship is staying in orbit. I want a two-hundred-kilometer quarantine zone around it. Nobody is authorized to approach. I don’t care who they are.”
“Sir.” The colonel licked his lips. “Rescue ships may need to—”
“Nobody,” Ethan said firmly.
“Yes, sir.”
The colonel hadn’t even left the office when Marius called. “A most unpleasant event in your skies,” the representative said.
“Was that one of your agents up there?”
“Someone we were affiliated with, yes.”
“ANA has requested a quarantine around the wreckage. It says the Prime are part of the Ocisen fleet. It says there’s a connection. Is that true?”
“I know nothing of that. I don’t have access to navy intelligence.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
Ethan wondered if he should challenge the representative directly but couldn’t see any advantage in that. “What was your ship doing stealthed in orbit around Ellezelin?”
“It was waiting for the Pilgrimage ships to be completed; then it would deliver the consignment of defense systems in its hold. As you can understand, we don’t want them sitting on the ground exposed to ANA’s scrutiny.”
A smooth enough answer and one that Ethan didn’t believe for an instant. “I see.”
“Neither do we want ANA to examine the remnants.”
“That is completely outside my remit.”
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