“Katryna, it isn’t about whether the Armstrong will survive, but rather how much damage it will take,” Nakamiru said, shaking his head. “We’ve already moved most of the non-essential personnel down and—”
“And you think I’m non-essential now?” she spun to face him.
“He’s not saying that,” Jeffers said, jumping to Nakamiru’s defense. “All of your government staff was aboard the Armstrong when we made our escape. We’ve moved them to the colony and you need to be their leader. They’re not colonists, they are our personnel, and they need to know that.”
“That’s pure horse eggs and you know it,” she said, not breaking her glare away from the admiral.
“Katryna, the truth is you are too valuable to risk,” he said, his voice softening, but his eyes refusing to yield. “We are sending Ariqat down and Chancellor Drake is already there. You three represent what is left of the Chancellery. If we make it through this, you could stake a legitimate claim to reestablish any future government. I am not asking you to do it because I want you to survive, but because I want the future to survive.”
“We don’t know that the colony will do any better than the ships up here,” she said. “The colony is the objective.”
“It is likely that Odysseus won’t risk a physical attack on the colony because it wants what’s inside,” Solo said.
“Mind your own fragging business,” she snarled.
“Please Katryna, don’t argue to be a hero, I need you … no, we need you, to be a leader.
“I’m the most experienced commander in the fleet. I should be here,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow at the absurdity of her statement. It was all it took to remind her that he was twice her age and had been shepherding spaceships around the solar system since before she was born.
“Maybe, not,” she said, feeling her argument deflating under her.
“We’re sending reserve skilled crewmembers down,” Jeffers said. “We have spare engineers, medical staff, and even have some scientists we haven’t inflicted on them yet. This would be when you are most needed down there. I’m sure the Governor would appreciate having your leadership experience to help him keep it together.”
“We’re pressing the Katana into service to transfer the last loads of personnel down, since it is bigger and faster than the shuttles,” the admiral said. “I will make you a deal. If you agree to leave without more argument, I will agree to not have you bodily removed until the last safe moment.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said.
His face said otherwise.
Kanahto Control Center: Tacra Un: L-4 Prime:
“Chei we need a miracle.” Jeph’s face appeared on the inner wall of the control pit that Ian occupied. All around him the augment team was working at a frantic pace on assessing control systems. They’d made impressive progress, but still hadn’t found that one key control system. The logic of the Un Shan Takhu control systems was still beyond their grasp.
“Chei trana ru,” Ian said, shaking his head and frowning. “He isn’t here. Sorry, it is hard for me to kasha Shan Takhu.”
“He’s not there?” Jeph asked. “We’re in trouble up here. He needs to be getting the quicksand off.”
“Da-nu ahn nu,” he said. “I understand.” He glanced up at the vault and the ships of the ghost fleet hanging over them all like a malevolent presence. The main sensors fed to the overhead image automatically.
“Where the hell is he if he’s not working?”
“Chei and Saf ahn Tahrat Shan-che,” he said.
“They are, something, star-child?” Jeph asked. “Never mind. You tell him I need him working on getting the quantum field shut down. Nothing else.”
“Da-nu ahn nu,” Ian said. “He is, ahn, options.”
The governor frowned. “I just got word that Roja is landing with an army of engineers and more scientists. We’re already crawling with her staff. I’m about to be invaded by what’s left of the real Union government and I don’t have time for him to be off making star-babies or whatever he’s doing.”
“Yes sir,” Ian said, grinning as the screen went blank.
Tahrat Shan-che. Star babies? He was still laughing when he got Chei on the com to pass the word.
Governor’s Office: Gateway Colony: L-4 Prime:
It had been the longest half shift of Jeph’s entire life. He sat in his office watching the sensor display with one eye while trying to keep track of everything that was going on in the colony. He’d agreed to let Captain Jeffers evacuate non-essential personnel from the Armstrong and then Carter Takata asked to send down his entire hospital staff from the Galen, but he hadn’t realized just how many bodies that was.
The Armstrong had a crew and passenger list of 7,600, and it appeared that half of them were pointless.
Anju and Tana Drake had taken over trying to find space to stuff people into, but the chaos outside his door was worse than the firstshift crush in Freeport. People were sitting on the decks in the hallways. Edison Wentworth had made sure they weren’t along any of the primary corridors that the troops might need if the worst happened, but it wasn’t going to be pretty if it came down to that.
The only place they had left to put more evacuees was in the language matrix itself, and Jeph had quashed that idea before it took wings. They’d posted guards on all the access points to the Tacra Un, if for no other reason than to keep someone from wandering through a door and needing to be rescued.
“We’re as ready as we can be,” Edison said as he appeared at the door. “We’ve moved both defensive groups into the lower crew decks of the Waltz and my reinforcements are just behind them in the main interconnects.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jeph said.
“What’s the status with the fleet?” he asked, dropping to a seat at the table and looking at the sensor feed.
“The ghost fleet has just come to a full stop relative to L-4 Prime,” Dutch said. “They are 200,000 kilometers above the Armstrong and positioned in a disk formation of six concentric rings.”
“That looks pretty but why?” Edison said.
“They may be establishing a large-scale antenna array by linking sensor systems across their fleet,” Solo said. “We are detecting high definition sensor pulses from several of the ships.”
“This would provide fine resolution images of the Tacra Un,” Dutch said.
“Will they be able to see through the shell?” Jeph asked.
“Unlikely,” Solo said.
“Governor, I assume you’re watching the show,” Roja said, appearing on the wall next to the sensor images.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeph said. “That’s a lot of ships.”
“Are you picking up any com signals yet?”
“Negative,” Dutch said. “We are detecting narrow beam computer traffic between the ships, but there is nothing in standard com.”
“Maneuvering entirely on autopilot,” Roja said. “I’ve never seen a fleet that didn’t have at least some intership communications. The silence is unnerving.”
“Odysseus is obviously driving,” Dutch said.
“Once it has completed its assessment of the Tacra Un structure, it will open contact,” Solo said.
“How long will that take?” Jeph asked.
“Not long,” Dutch said. “We are receiving a signal.”
“This is Odysseus. You are occupying a restricted zone. You are to relinquish control of the facility and vacate the area immediately. Your compliance is mandatory.”
“This is the Armstrong,” Roja said, shrugging as she turned away from the screen, but left the channel open. “I do not believe we recognize your authority to declare this a restricted zone.”
“Chancellor Roja, your belief in this matter is irrelevant,” it said. “You will remove the 203 individuals from the structure on the surface and vacate the area. You will comply with my instructions.”
“203?” Edison whispered.
�
��It’s only detected the ones inside the Waltz. They’re the only people we have outside the shell,” Jeph said. “It can’t scan the internal structure.”
“Maybe we could fake an evacuation of the bodies it can see to buy time,” Edison whispered. “If we make it look like we’re pulling out, but that it will take several runs, it might give us some time.”
“And if we don’t?” Roja said, clenching her teeth as she replied to Odysseus.
“I am sending your suggestion to the Chancellor now,” Dutch said.
“You will be compelled by force,” Odysseus said. “I am sure you have determined that you would be unable to resist this fleet.”
Jeph watched the chancellor look down to read Dutch’s message before she glanced at the screen and nodded.
“It will take several runs to bring everybody back up from the surface,” she said. “Once we’ve got everyone out, you agree to let us leave?”
“You have three hours to complete the transfer,” it said. “At that point, consider any personnel left behind forfeit.”
“And then you will let us go? I want your assurance on that,” she said.
“You will leave the AA hardware currently in the facility,” it said. “At that point you are free to go.”
“It obviously doesn’t know about the quicksand either,” Jeph said.
“Or it doesn’t matter, because it’s lying,” Edison added.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Operations Control Center: Galileo Station:
Derek sat staring at the screen over the control stations. He was trying to fathom what strategy Odysseus had behind his actions. It had been a week since the battle over Sinus Iridum and nothing had happened except that four more multicruisers had arrived in lunar orbit. At least three were involved in relief work for Underhive while the rest patrolled the lunar surface from low orbit.
FleetCom had twelve multicruisers staring at Galileo and it made him nervous, now that their security depended on a battle group of less than eighty vessels.
He’d given up asking Odysseus to tell him what was going on. It had abandoned him. He had his privacy back, or at least silence that resembled privacy. He made no mistake though because he knew his overseer was still inside his mind even if it wasn’t making itself known.
Do you have any idea what you’re doing? He thought to himself. I bet you’re embarrassed by having FleetCom beat you.
“I achieved my objective,” it said, surprising him with a response.
You lost, and you cost us any hope of having allies in the lunar colonies, he said back through the implant.
“You do not understand my needs, therefore you do not know the purpose of my actions,” it said. “I needed to move FleetCom assets away from the L-2 Shipyard and shift their focus off the blockade. I have achieved this objective. When I am ready, I will counterstrike.”
When will that be?
Silence answered him.
Armstrong: Station-keeping Above L-4 Prime:
“The ghost fleet is altering its formation,” Jeffers said. They’re spreading out and arranging into four attack groups.
“It appears that Odysseus expects us to stay,” Nakamiru said.
“The largest group is lining up on us. It’s close to 300 ships,” she said. “The others are moving toward polar orbit and descending to parallel the multicruisers. There are a hundred ships in each.” An image of Odysseus’ deployment pattern popped up in the situational display and the admiral stepped up to look at it.
“We’re seriously over-matched,” Roja said, frowning as she studied the diagram.
“What about the remaining ships?” the admiral asked, pointing at a small cluster that hadn’t moved.
“They look to be holding position for the moment. That group includes the Columbia,” Jeffers said.
“Can we take 300 ships?” Roja asked.
“We’ve got the reserve power, but the number of guns is questionable. We’ve hung a laser on every hard point we have, but that still gives us less than a thousand beams. We’ll have an advantage with range and intensity, but they have maneuverability and sheer numbers.”
“My concern is whether any of the multicruisers can take 100 ships,” Roja said.
The admiral shook his head. “Not without running room, and even then it is unlikely. Once they have taken the cruisers down, they will bring everything they have left after us. I expect that when the first round is over, we should expect to be facing 500 ships or more.”
“That’s not a survivable ratio,” Jeffers said. “Our only hope is to get some distance and pick them off as they spread out to pursue.”
The chancellor frowned. “Patch me through to Cochrane. Maybe we should tell him to get out of the way and let us attack the Tacra Un ourselves?”
“I think that would be ill advised,” Solo said.
“She was kidding,” Jeffers said.
“Maybe not,” Roja said, letting loose with an assault level glare as the governor’s face appeared on the screen and she turned her attention to him.
Kitty Hawk: Station-keeping Above New Hope City: Luna:
“Captain Franklin, Ranger is reporting we’ve got activity on the enemy battle group,” the com officer said. They were holding position above the crater of Underhive and shuttling life support hardware to the surface. The Ranger was in position 1,000 klick above them and was working as a communications relay to the L-2 Shipyard. It was also paying more attention to Galileo than her own crew was.
“Show me,” she said, standing up and bouncing forward to the edge of the command riser. Station-keeping at forty klick meant the lunar gravity inside the ship was substantial enough to keep everything in place.
When the screen opened, the group of enemy ships that had been stationary for a week was in motion. “Navigation, plot that,” she barked. “Are they heading our way?”
“Too early to tell, but it doesn’t look like it,” the navigator said as lines appeared on the plot. “Either they’re heading for a hot button-hook that might bring them once around and then back here, or they’re looking at L-2.”
“Com, put me through to Quintana,” she said, glancing at the chrono. It was late thirdshift.
After almost a minute, the admiral’s face appeared on the comscreen on one side of her riser. “Problem?” he said, clearing his throat and sounding like the effort to create another word would have been beyond his voice.
“Sorry sir, but it looks like the fleet is moving in your direction,” she said. “They’re moving too fast for an easy lunar insertion, but we won’t know for sure for a few minutes yet.”
He nodded. “Do you think they’re trying to pull you off your post?”
“Gut level? No,” the captain said. “They’ve got a commit threshold in about forty minutes and we’ll know for sure.”
“How many ships?” he growled.
“Seventy-five. They’re leaving Galileo pretty naked,” she said.
“They know we won’t attack,” he said. “Too much collateral damage.”
“And it leans me on the idea that they’re coming for you,” Franklin said. “Attacking L-2 would guarantee we’d be too busy covering home to consider busting their eggs.”
The admiral laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes for almost a minute before he nodded. “What’s their ETA for here if they hold trajectory?”
“Just under three hours,” she said.
He glanced off screen and frowned. “0530 hours. Why can’t they start a war at a decent time of day?”
“Because Tomlinson doesn’t want you to have a sex life either,” a woman said from somewhere out of the optic’s field of view. Whoever she was, she flashed across the screen behind him as she rolled out of bed.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Hold your ground until we know they’re over the commit line, and then if they’re still pushing for us, bring everything you’ve got after them.”
“From a flat footed start we’ll be an h
our behind them,” she said.
“Understood. We’ll hold,” he said. “We’ve got no choice.”
Tahrat Shan-che: Gateway Colony: L-4 Prime:
Saf and Chei were stuck. They were aboard the Shan Takhu ship, but they might as well have been in a parallel universe. They’d made several expeditions inside. If they didn’t make a breakthrough this time, it might never happen. Odysseus was on top of them and they were no closer to understanding how it worked than they were the first time they’d been inside.
They’d spent several days just trying to map out the interior and see if there was any logic to it. So far, they thought they might have found the engines, but even that was debatable.
The Tahrat Shan-che didn’t appear to have a control deck. They’d looked in every place where humans would have put one. The nose, the top, even above the things they assumed to be engines. There was something that might have been an engineering room, but nothing in it made sense.
The lights were on, but neither of them could find their way home.
Chei had reached the end of his optimism, and was descending into desperation, as he leaned against a control kiosk. It looked like the pedestals in the amphitheater except that when he walked up and touched it, the screen refused to activate. He wanted to beat it with his fists, but he was certain it was tougher than his feeble human flesh.
Saf looked almost as dejected as he felt, and she sat crumpled against another obelisk. “What are we missing?” she muttered. “There has to be something we just aren’t seeing.”
He nodded, but didn’t look at her. “It feels like we’re inside a comatose creature,” he said. “Like it’s still alive, but just brain dead.”
“I wonder if that’s possible?” she asked. “Maybe they wiped the brain.”
“Or maybe it won’t upload until we’ve finished some other frakking impossible quest somewhere else in the Tacra Un,” he said, snarling at her. His frustration had reached its end, and he was clinging to the frayed edges of his temper. “I’ve been fighting this fragging beast for most of the last year. It reached out and swatted us out of the sky and then marooned us here. It wants to suck the life out of us.”
Redemption of Sisyphus Page 21