“Not that I can see,” he said.
“Before we do this, I’d like to mention that Cochrane said he’d only make his report face to face,” the chancellor said. “That doesn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t be willing to come up here to talk.”
“Again, if the shelf is real, it means we have to descend to recovery altitude,” Jameson said.
“So either way we need to test it,” she said, turning toward Jeffers and nodding. “Take us down to a thousand kilometers and deploy a pod. Once we know for sure, we can decide where to go from there.”
“Yes ma’am,” the captain said. “I recommend that under no circumstances do you go down to the surface.” She spun toward the ConDeck to give the orders.
Nakamiru nodded. “If it comes down to it, we invite him up here and if he refuses, then we go get him.”
Executive Director Offices: Galileo Station:
“I’m taking care of your problem so you can call off your attack dog,” Lassiter snarled from the screen.
“My attack dog?” Tomlinson shook his head in confusion. He’d just finished his day and stood behind his seat thinking he was badly in need of a stiff drink. Too many things had pulled his plans apart, and this just added another flavor of chaos as a final course. “I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Odysseus,” he said. “Tell your bastard bulldog to get his fragging nose out of my business. I’ll dance.”
Are you forcing Lassiter’s hand? he thought into his implant.
“I have determined that your method of incremental trust manipulation is inefficient, so I am leveraging his personal situation to achieve a desired result,” Odysseus said. “Removing the threat that Tana Drake represents is essential to maintaining stability in the short term. Since you have failed to achieve the desired result, she will be neutralized.”
“I want her alive if possible,” Tomlinson said out loud, but speaking to both the computer and Lassiter. He sat down and leaned forward on his elbows, trying to regroup his thinking for another sea change he could feel coming.
“You need her out of the way,” Lassiter said. “I will do that however I have to. You don’t get to pick and choose, just accept that I will get it done and while I’m cleaning up your shitmess, make sure you keep Odysseus off my ass.”
“If she’s killed—”
“It’s the cost of doing business,” Lassiter interrupted. “If you don’t have the stomach to play hard, don’t start it.”
The com cut off abruptly and Derek pushed himself back in his seat. He let out a slow breath to vent some of his frustration at being blindsided. What did you do to get him that pissed off?
“There are questions you don’t want to ask,” Odysseus said through his implant. A vague image of violence flashed at the edge of his awareness and he recoiled before it coalesced into clarity.
“If you’re going to use that kind of force, you should be careful,” he said out loud. “Paulson is a dangerous enemy to have.”
“Enemies are irrelevant,” Odysseus said in a lifeless tone almost as unsettling as what he’d seen in his mind’s eye.
“Only to you.”
Coronado: Lagrange Five Supply Storage Facility:
The Lagrange Five Supply Storage Facility was an automated cache of raw materials floating around an insignificant maintenance platform. The small habitat seldom had more than a few crewmembers and often sat unmanned for weeks at a time. Huge bundles of raw materials hung scattered out over thousands of cubic kilometers around the gravitational balance point. With the exception of the robot stock handlers that kept things organized and provided the labor for delivering materials to the occasional cargo carriers that came to pick up supplies, no one ever inspected the depot past the platform and the rendezvous beacon.
Before the change in government, SourceCartel owned the majority position in everything at both Lagrange transfer points and nobody other than the small AI that managed the supplies noticed if something was out of place. And it didn’t care. Not even when it was something as big as two fully operational former science vessels. As long as the ships didn’t move, they could lurk unnoticed in the dark as long as needed.
Ghosts, hiding in the shade.
The Coronado arrived at Lagrange Five ten months before the government exploded and it was only another month before the crew would rotate off and another would arrive to take over the next nightwatch. They scheduled crew changes around the down times on the platform when there was nobody to notice the unusual activity.
Lee Brubaker and his engineer Dawna Trujillo spent most of their assignment in a casual relationship and since there were only ten others on the ship, it was best that it stay casual. Most everyone on the Coronado had bedded everyone else, but that was how it worked when you spent a year alone and had nothing else to do with your time. Lee floated comfortably on the ConDeck staring at Dawna’s body as she drifted in and out of a light sleep. She wasn’t as beautiful as his wife, but she was here and that made her attractive enough. She wore most of a flesh-colored thinskin and had the slight afterglow of their morning activities. It had left her with a smile and tangled hair.
“The Seeker is hailing,” the ship’s AA announced. It wasn’t completely unusual for them to talk between the two hidden ships, but it was rare enough for him to jump. The Seeker had been on station at L-5 for three crew rotations and was the senior posting, so it was like getting a com from your boss while you were daydreaming about your girlfriend.
“Put it through,” he said, grabbing the edge of his console and pulling himself around into his seat.
“Bru, we’ve got orders,” Captain Shaw said. She was five years his senior but looked to be much younger. She was a former FleetCom ExO, and it showed in her demeanor. Just a glance behind him and he could feel her disapproval. He stole a glimpse over his shoulder and realized that Dawna’s body was clearly visible as a reflection in one of the viewscreens.
Shaw closed her eyes and shook her head, letting out a hissing sigh. “Party time is over. We’re to rendezvous with Raw Materials Carrier-067 and shadow it to L-2. You’ve got twelve hours to make ready.”
“Whyfor?” he asked, trying to stay focused on the comscreen and ignore his embarrassment.
“I’ll link the specifics to you once you run through your power-up,” she said. “Twelve hours. That’ll be plenty of time, if you can keep your tool out of your engineer’s hands long enough to do your job.”
“Cando,” he said as she cut the com from her end.
Why the frag did they have to put my wife in command of the Seeker?
Jakob Waltz: On the Surface of L-4 Prime:
“That thing is a mountain,” Shona said. Like everyone else on the ConDeck, she was watching the image of the Armstrong as it approached. They still couldn’t see it directly from the Waltz because of the glare, but the Hector’s optics were far enough to the side that it gave them a great view. Especially of the dozens of laser mounts that were visible all over the hull.
“I eyeballed the keel-framing once when I was still working Zone One courier runs,” Kiro said, leaning over the back of Alyx’s seat to look at her screen. “Lots meaner looking now that it’s all grown up.”
Radar had been reading its position since the ship dropped below 1000 kilometers and when they realized how heavily armed it was, Jeph ordered Rocky to power up their own guns and called everyone to the ConDeck. Not that there was much they could do by being on deck, but he felt it was important to have them all together at least until they knew what was happening.
At around 850 klick, a workpod peeled loose and plummeted toward the surface. “It’s too small to be a shuttle,” Seva said. “Bet they’re probing the shelf in the gradient.”
As they watched, the pod arced to the side until it dropped below the threshold and stabilized into orbit. Chei nodded. “Not taking our word for it.”
“Is nature of science to question,” Rocky said.
“Science ah
n argue un che-nu,” Ian said, grinning.
“Science will argue until the child is old.” Chei nodded. “Truth in that.”
“How long do you think they’ll poke at it before they either rescue it, or give it up for lost?”
“Probably not long,” Dutch said. “We are being hailed.”
“Is it Roja?” Jeph asked.
“Negative, it is the captain of the Armstrong,” the computer said. “Elayne Jeffers.”
“Put her through,” he said.
Her face appeared on the screen and Jeph blinked in surprise. Jeffers was much younger than he’d expected for the captain of the Armstrong. She must be a fast-track commander. He bit his lip as he swallowed his old frustration. “What can I do for you Captain Jeffers?” he asked.
“Captain Cochrane, the chancellor has asked me to invite you up to the Armstrong so you and she can discuss matters,” she said, smiling in what looked like genuine amusement.
“I take it that means she doesn’t want to take us up on our offer to show her around?”
She laughed out loud. “She said you were pretty sure of yourself. It’s a good thing she likes strong willed captains.”
“I would consider it an honor to visit your ship, but you’re still above the ceiling. Until you come down another three hundred klick that won’t be possible,” he said.
“Yah, we confirmed the shelf at 405.5 kilometers,” she said.
“I do believe we warned you,” Jeph said.
She nodded. “We’ve discussed the risks, and it appears we’ve got no choice but to drop the rest of the way down. Do you have an operational shuttle or should I send one down to pick you up?”
“We can do it,” he said. “I’ll have my pilot fuel and prep one of our shuttlepods. Give us an hour and then flight time. That puts us at the deck in about three hours.”
She glanced to the side and nodded to someone listening off screen. “Then we’ll plan for you to be here for thirdmeal. You and the Chancellor have a lot to discuss. I could set up a stateroom for you and your pilot?”
“I think we’ll probably be returning after the meeting,” he said.
“As you wish, Captain,” she said, her eyes flicking to the person with her. “See you in three hours. Jeffers out.”
The screen went blank and the orbital plot of the three ships above them reappeared. Jeph looked down at the deck and frowned.
“You think she’s planning to hold you up there don’t you?” Anju said.
He nodded. “Jeffers is covering something and I don’t think she likes it.”
“So don’t go,” she said. “It’s a bad idea for you to stay in your PSE any longer than you need to. Or even at all for that matter.”
“I have to,” he said. “Can you work up something for pain and tie it to a stim to keep me from fading out while I’m up there?”
“If I say no, will you stay home?” she said.
“Cori, go get the pod final prepped and Seva, you’ll drive,” he said, shaking his head. “Please make sure she’s briefed and get her special kit ready.”
“Yes sir,” Cori said, nodding and bounding toward the railing and the EVA OpsDeck above.
Jeph held his hand up to stop the doctor’s protest. “If we’re ever going to get her down here I have to go get her.”
“What?” the doctor asked. Danel looked just as bewildered.
“Nevermind, just go get my happy juice ready. I have to suit up and get moving,” he said.
“Not until you tell us what’s going on,” she said.
Ignoring her, he turned to Chei. “You’re ready?”
“I can lock the doors and turn on the lights whenever you ask.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Command Deck: FleetCom Lunar L-2 Shipyard: Lunar Lagrange Two:
The Command Deck was an amphitheater two stories high with a dozen operational sections arrayed in a circle around the central command riser and the admiral’s office above it on a balcony. There were usually forty crewmembers on duty, but since things had come unhinged, the standard compliment had expanded to over a hundred. The massive station’s computer was capable of running most operations, but because an attack had shut it down once before, they kept every station manned at all times. As a human failsafe behind the hardware system.
Erin Sage floated above her workstation supervising the three members of her approach control team. On a normal shift they’d handle less than forty arrivals and departures per shift and the vast majority of those would be from Tsiolkovskiy. Most of it was so routine that there was nothing for them to do but watch the systems do their jobs.
“Erin, we’ve got a Raw Materials Carrier inbound.”
“I didn’t think we had anything coming in,” she said, pulling herself down and setting her feet to the deck with a click.
“As far as I can see we don’t,” her tech said. “It is running valid credentials though.”
“Where’s its point of origin?” she asked, tapping her screen and opening the manifest data on the ship.
“L-5 Transfer,” he said. “It logged out of there yesterday evening. Says they’re carrying palladium.”
“That’s odd,” she said. “Let me run this up the stack and see if somebody got an order through and forgot to log it.”
“No rush,” he said. “It’s still an hour out and on standard approach. They’ve got about ten minutes before they begin braking.”
She flipped over to the command channel. “Operations this is Approach, can you confirm an open order that got missed in the schedule? We’ve got a Raw Materials Carrier from L-5 an hour out that looks to be wanting to unload 200 tons of palladium.”
“Stand by Approach,” the OpsCom said. After a couple seconds, he came back and asked, “Do you have the designation number on that RMC?
“It’s ID shows as Source RMC-067,” she said. “It’s flying a good code and authorization.”
“A zero-series? That’s a crewed tender isn’t it?” he asked.
“Da. It’s one of the old Goliath class haulers.”
“Can you com them and see if they know who placed the order,” OpsCom asked. “Requisitions says they should have it on the manifest. Source declined the last palladium request they submitted and they have no record of that order flipping back to active. They’re looking to know who authorized the shipment.”
“I’m on it,” she said, switching back to the intership com. “RMC-067, FleetCom Ops is requesting confirmation of the order origin from your manifest. Cando?”
“Roger L-2 Approach,” the pilot said. “Manifest says it’s fulfillment of delayed order 2243-alpha-117.”
“Copy 067, stand by,” she said kicking back to the command channel. “Did you catch that Ops?”
“Yah,” OpsCom said. “You said they are hauling 200 tons?
“Affirm ops. 200 tons of palladium on order 2243-A-117.”
After another short pause, the OpsCom officer came back. “That’s a problem Approach. Requisitions confirms the order number, but says it’s hauling triple the mass of the order.”
“Let me confirm that with them.” She toggled back to the external com. “RMC-067 can you confirm your payload mass?”
“Roger Approach. 200 tons,” the pilot said, clearing his throat and then adding, “Approach, Source says the overage is to fulfill shortages on previous orders. I’m not carrying paperwork for additional lading, but I’m sure you can push it up the chain to confirm.”
“Negative on that Approach,” OpsCom said, without waiting for her to relay the message. “Requisitions says that doesn’t scrub, put them into a hold until we track this.”
“Roger Ops,” she said. She kicked back to talk to the ship again. “RMC-067, hold approach while we get confirmation.”
Silence answered her.
“Confirm RMC-067?” she said. “You are to hold approach until we can push this through channels.”
She watched as the tech handling the approach shook his head. “The
ir com just went dead,” he said.
“That RMC you’re working just flipped and lit up. It’s accelerating inbound,” her tracking tech said, turning around to look up at her.
Flipping back to the command channel she sighed. “Operations, I think we’ve got a bigger issue than some palladium overstock.”
Armstrong: Station-keeping Above L-4 Prime:
The main hangar deck on the Armstrong looked almost big enough to berth the Jakob Waltz. It probably wasn’t, but it was the largest enclosed space Jeph had ever seen on anything this side of Galileo Station. The ALC piloted their shuttlepod through a series of progressive airlocks without needing to wait for the air to pressurize all the way up. When they finally reached the interior space, a giant arm grabbed them and hauled them into position against a small boarding ramp.
On the way up from the surface, they’d decided Seva would accompany him to the meeting with Roja and Cori would stay to keep an eye on the pod, but looking at how the hangar worked, that might be tough. It looked like the arm would rack the pod for storage once they got out.
“Looks like you’re going to have to go with us,” Jeph said.
Cori shook his head. “Even if they depressurize outside, the pod’s got twenty hours of air and I’ve still got one suit in the back locker. I don’t like the idea of leaving you without a backup exit plan.”
“We’ve got company,” Seva said as she polarized the main window and Cori ducked behind the small interior bulkhead. He needed to stay out of sight until they got clear and then he just needed to sit in case they needed him.
Jeph swung feet first through the hatch and snapped his maglocks on the boarding ramp while Seva unfolded and blocked the view into the back of the shuttlepod with her imposing bulk. Unless one of the escort party was bigger than two meters, there was no way they’d see past her. She pulled the door closed and yanked the locking bolt over, sealing Cori inside.
“Captain Cochrane, welcome to the Armstrong,” the woman he recognized as Jeffers said. She had two security officers standing behind her and off the end of ramp, but otherwise appeared to be alone.
Fulcrum of Odysseus Page 18