by Gem Jackson
"Yes sir."
"... as our lowest ranking pilots. You are aware of the situation at Lancaster Orbital?"
Murray spoke. "Yes sir. At least, I'm aware of the order to evacuate. Just what I heard on the bridge, really."
Leon stared at Murray. Lancaster Orbital was evacuating? That was crazy. He scanned the room for some clue to what was going on.
"Wood, pay attention, please. In light of the disruption to the orbital, the admiralty have asked us to accommodate some passengers on our outward journey. There are two vessels making their way to rendezvous with us. A middle-grade diplomat and a pair of APSA case officers. All three will board imminently to assist us in the current mission. With me so far?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. The diplomat has indicated that his vessel does not have a crew. God knows why. Something to do with getting attacked on Lancaster, apparently. He has requested that it remained docked with the Aggressive for the duration of the journey. The Captain and I are not persuaded. I dislike civilians on my ship. My ship and civilians do not mix. It is an enormous security contamination to have a T-jump capable civilian ship docked with us for any significant length of time. Since I do not want this man and his vessel screwing my ship, so you two are going to be my prophylactic."
"Yes, sir."
"The two of you are to pilot the diplomat’s ship from here to Ceres and then on to Titan. You will work overlapping split shifts as you do so. The ship, the Jackdaw's Straw, is an extremely expensive APSA asset. You are not to lose it, break it or abuse it, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent. Wood, make your way over to the port-side airlock and await the yacht's arrival. Once it has arrived, board it and familiarise yourself with the vessel. Move over what you need and replenish the stores if necessary. Murray, get some rest. When you're next on shift, go straight to the Jackdaw's Straw and do the same as Wood, familiarisation and so forth. Once you're both aboard, begin plotting a jump to Ceres. Understood?"
They both nodded.
"Sir," asked Murray, "if I may ask. Who has seniority between myself and Wood? We were both commissioned at the same time, sir."
The XO exhaled slowly. "In that case, obviously it has to be you, Murray."
Leon grit his teeth. Rimmer.
"Alphabetically, Murray precedes Wood." The XO saluted, bringing the conversation to a close. "As you were"
"Yes, sir." They both saluted. He left the bridge immediately, following Murray. As he did, Leon spoke softly to himself, "LT Wood, watch this gauge."
Chapter 4—September
"Dammit, Tem, what the hell was that?" Tariq stepped in front of her and stopped her marching any further. His eyes were wide, and his jaw tight. "You just assaulted the Station Commander. What's wrong with you?"
Tem screwed up her face. "He was wasting time. He called the evacuation, didn't he? What's the problem?"
"The problem is that behaviour like that causes more issues than it solves. We could have gone over his head. One call to command and he would have got a direct order from the minister." He let his arms drop to his sides. "You can't go round like a bull in a china shop. You're exhausting sometimes."
Tem put a hand on Tariq's shoulder and squeezed. He was sweet when he was angry.
"C'mon kid, keep up. It's why I get the job done faster than anyone else." She set off toward the elevator that would take them back into the body of the station.
"It's why you're sidelined away from the high-stakes case work. You've got to chill out, Tem."
That was true, at least. Partly true, anyway. Her caseload wasn't brimming with the high-profile crimes or pursuit of notorious terrorist groups. Her specialism was cold, difficult cases; the lone wolves and the black swans. Anyone else with her success rate would be in one of the primary intelligence teams, but given her past, this would never happen. It didn’t bother her much. She enjoyed the work and the travel. Plus, without the high profile cases, she never had to do a press conference or schmooze with the suits. Flying under the radar had it’s advantages, though at this moment in time it was harder to appreciate them.
Tem scanned the surroundings. The control room was located away from the bustle. Every screen in the vicinity flashed the evacuation order and instructions droned from the PA system. A few of the station crew hurried past, though she didn't expect the control room to evacuate for a while yet. A few feet away there was a smart waiting area, defined by a pale blue carpet. In it sat a few comfortable looking chairs and a fashionable glass table.
"Come on. We should speak to the boss," said Tem. She strode over and crashed onto a chair before unfurling her tablet from inside her jacket. She slapped it on to the table and pressed her thumb onto the edge.
"What are you thinking?" asked Tariq.
"I'm thinking we need to get onto Biarritz. He'll be here in the wings somewhere."
The tablet blipped, alerting her to an incoming SecuriCall. She tapped in her eight digit code to answer and waited.
"Tem? Can you talk?" It was her line manager, Mo. He coordinated the entire anti-terror division.
"Confirmed Mo, I can talk. Listen, there's a lot of stuff happening up here, I need to report quickly. The situation is changing fast."
"Yes, September, we are aware of that. APSA Central is on high alert as of about twenty minutes ago. Report?"
Mo was silent as she ran through the day's events so far. She left nothing out, withheld conjecture before finishing at the point she and Tariq had left the control room. On the other end of the line, Mo scowled as she spoke about roughing up the Station Commander.
"I heard about that. The old bastard was not impressed. We could have done without it, Tem. I'm sure I'll be passing on an ear-chewing later on. What are you worried about up there?"
"Well, I've got three concerns, sir. One, I'm fairly sure the Enigma will collide with Lancaster Orbital, and two that means one hell of a Kessler syndrome. Have you been tracking the Enigma's angle of approach?"
"Hang on... yes, yes we have. It seems to be a very odd angle of attack?" Mo sounded unsure. She suspected he was seeing the information for the first time. Tariq had picked up on it straight away. The Enigma wasn't heading directly towards the planet. An impact from that angle would push the station and most of the debris further into the atmosphere where it would fall and burn up. Instead, the Enigma aimed as if to pass by the planet, hitting the atmosphere with a glancing blow, like a well-placed kiss from a cue ball. Only, it wouldn't pass Earth, it would crash into the orbital from behind.
"Yes it is sir, it's a very odd angle of attack. But there's a reason for it. If I'm right, whoever pointed the Enigma in the direction it's travelling doesn't want to use it to smash the orbital down into the atmosphere. They want to hit, but keep the debris orbiting—" Mo cut her off and finished the sentence himself.
"—sending out millions of tonnes of shrapnel, travelling at tens of kilometres a second which will then smash into, and destroy anything in its path."
"Right, which will then do the same. A Kessler syndrome. Within a couple of hours satellite communication to or from the planet will be decimated. There will be an impenetrable cloud of speeding debris cutting Earth's surface off from the rest of the Solar System for weeks." She let the implications sink in.
Thousands would die in orbit as the syndrome engulfed the planet. The world’s economies would lose trillions in trade and commerce, and all the while, the near complete communications blackout would render governments and corporations helpless to co-ordinate anything off planet.
She continued, “My final concern is that while this is going on, the Enigma will take out the Beacon.”
“Agreed. That’s the principal focus here.”
“With good reason I think. The general blackout, combined with an inability for anyone to T-jump back to Earth, well, there’s a chance something is going on.”
“Any idea what?” Mo sounded distracted now. Something else was drawing his attention.
“No idea, sir, but it could be anything. If this is Biarritz, and he’s our best lead at the moment, then there is a pattern of using terror attacks as cover for wider political moves. Biarritz isn’t ideological. There is always someone else bankrolling each attack. It could be the Russians? I know they have worked with Biarritz before. Maybe Mars or even a rimmer colony?”
“I think you’re right.” This was a surprise. “The Kessler syndrome is a concern down here, but it’s not our primary worry; the Beacon is. We’re sending you into action on those grounds. We’re worried that this could be the start of an attack against Earth. If the Beacon goes, reinforcements are out of the question. Several independent ships are being deployed to the outer colonies to maintain a presence in strategic positions while the main battle fleets are pulled back to defend Earth and Lunar assets. We want you aboard the Aggressive. It’s just departed Lancaster and is heading to Titan via Ceres. Given that is where the Enigma came from, it is logical that you should continue your investigation there. I have informed Captain Bryant already. However, I want to be clear about this: your investigation is a secondary concern. The Aggressive has a job to do which dovetails with your job. I know what you’re like, September. The entire damn ship is not being put at your disposal. Clear?”
“No!” Tem slammed the table. “I need to be here. For fuck's sake, Mo, don’t sideline me. If something is happening, it will be around Earth. You know I’m the best. You need me here.”
Before she had even finished speaking Mo had closed his eyes and started shaking his head. Tariq was on his feet, running his hands through his hair in despair.
“September, listen to me. This is high profile. We’ll be under a huge amount of scrutiny. I can’t afford you firing in all direction. It looks too bad. For god’s sake, you just attacked a station commander, not ten minutes ago. It’s not unknown for you to go off script when you get the bit between your teeth, is it? At some point you need to understand that you’re not a law unto yourself. I cannot have you leading this. I’m pulling in Sousa to continue the investigation around Earth and Kim’s team are heading to Lunar One.”
“But Mo—”
“But nothing, Long. The Enigma was returning from Titan. We think whoever took it did so around Ceres. I need someone out there, someone who can look after themselves and who knows the case. Don’t look at me like that. There isn’t time for this. I’m organising one of Lancaster’s shuttles for you. You’ll need something quick to catch up with the Aggressive.”
Tem looked at the screen. She felt sick. This was her case. For ten years Biarritz had been on her desk because nobody else thought him important enough to chase. He was a cold lead. A minor player. Year after year she had chipped away at the case. Achieved what nobody else could. And this was how they repaid her. This was a chance to catch him, to stop him, and she was being exiled to the wrong end of the Solar System. One giant ‘fuck you’. All because of her damn genetics. All because she was an ultra. A gen-modded human, and so couldn’t be trusted. Not in the eyes of the public, anyway.
“Agent Long, do you understand your orders?”
She nodded. “I understand all right. You’d better pray we catch him before I see you again, Mo.”
“September, we don’t—”
She closed the connection. Fuck.
Tem closed the shuttle airlock and heard Tariq call from the cockpit. She took a moment to orientate herself in the shuttle’s zero gravity environment before calling back.
“I’m in Tariq. Moving through to you now.” The interior of the shuttle was barely ten metres in length and narrow throughout. It’s inner workings were exposed along the walls giving the impression, to Tem at least, of being in the guts of a mechanical creature. She pushed through towards the cockpit, passing the tiny living quarters as she went, bunks on one side, personal cleansing space on the other. She struggled awkwardly into the co-pilots chair and turned to Tariq. He was focused on the command screen, fingers dancing elegantly across the panel. She felt better being in the relative quiet of the shuttle. The panic level outside was rising as rumour and fear spread through the orbital.
“Fuck me, that was chaotic out there. Are we all set?”
“You swear more when you’re stressed,” said Tariq without missing a beat.
“Uh huh?” Tem finished fitting the five-point safety harness. “So I’m stressed. Are we set?”
“We are. Pre-launch checks are just about done. Well, the important ones anyway. I think we’re ready to go. Oh, and you might want to tune in to the chatter in the CIC.”
“Are they still fucking around?” She grabbed a headset and flashed through the security channels to access the audio feed from the CIC on Lancaster. She recoiled backwards at the cacophony of noise before lowering the volume. Tariq who was grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome. But seriously, stuff is happening.”
“Anything we didn’t already know?”
“Oh, yes. The Enigma is still accelerating. We’ve got less than ten minutes to be away.”
“Ten minutes? Fuck.” Tem scrunched her eyes, thinking it through. “Can we put enough distance between ourselves and the orbital?”
“I guess we’ll find out. I hope you’re strapped in tight.” Tariq pointed out into space. “Once we get going, we’ll be accelerating hard to catch the Aggressive. At least three G’s.”
Tem gripped the lever and her seat spun round a half turn.
“You love this shit, don’t you? Three G’s is a lot isn’t it?” A shiver ran down her back. “This is how I’m going to die. The engines are going to explode and I’m gonna be sat here, strapped in and fried in a god-awful fireball.”
“It’s unlikely. Possible I suppose, but very unlikely. Anyway, if anything explodes, it will be the fuel tank not the engines. This thing uses a rocket engine. It’s old school. But yeah, you would still be fried I suppose.” Tariq hit the screen decisively. “Ready? Let’s go.” Tariq’s seat whirred as a set of HOTAS controls emerged from the arm rests.
“Hang on. What the hell are they? Are you piloting?” She cocked her head.
“Of course. This ones the throttle, and this one is the stick. Easy.” Tariq placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt at the implied criticism. “I’m an excellent pilot. You’d trust an AI over me?”
“You’re not a pilot. You’ve got a computer game at home. A simulator. It’s not the same thing.”
“We don’t have time for this.” He went back to work. “Anyway, it’s not a simulator, it’s a true physics, immersive flight modeler.”
Despite her insinuations, Tariq was an excellent pilot and she much preferred having a person at the controls than an algorithm. He pulled the shuttle away from the boom with ease. The emergency escape procedure meant that all departure cones were set to open without any intervals between launches and this was causing chaos as ships jockeyed for position and cut across one another. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. Tariq slammed on the reverse thrust to avoid a collision with an escape pod before banking sharply to fall in line with a huge frigate.
“Just stick with this guy,” said Tem, gesturing to the lumbering cargo ship. “It will be safer.”
Tariq shook his head, “No, they’re not fast enough. We need to get away from the orbital.”
With that they accelerated hard and shot out back into the stream of ships threading around the traffic until they were suitably dispersed. After a minute Tariq cut the thrusters and spun the shuttle around to face the orbital, now shrunk in the distance, as they continued to fly away from it.
“Any time now,” he said. He tapped on the main console and brought an image of Lancaster Orbital onto the monitors. It was a live feed from a rolling newscast. The news was out and the media had swarmed around the orbital, the Beacon and the Enigma.
“Oh shit,” said Tariq. “This is really happening.”
The Enigma had annihilated the Beacon using a combinatio
n of nukes and rail-guns. The only footage available was grainy and indistinct, caught by a commercial mining ship a few thousand miles away, but that didn’t stop it being looped again and again. They watched it repeat, occasionally leaning in, as if that might afford them some special insight otherwise overlooked by the millions dialled into the same feed.
“Do you think everyone is off Lancaster?” asked Tariq. He swigged on of a bottle of water, sucking at the cap.
“No.”
“Here, take one.” He passed her an unopened bottle. “Sorry, I don’t think there’s any gin on board.”
She took the bottle and, without taking her eyes off the monitor, raised it in thanks.
“Look at them.” Tariq pointed to the feed. It had cut to a view of the Lancaster Orbital. Thousands of craft surrounded it. Some were making off, away from the station down to Earth or elsewhere. Presumably the Moon. Yet the majority remained, drifting at what they believed was a safe distance. Every few seconds another vessel would blast away from the orbital and dash into the crowd. It appeared to be just the escape craft that were leaving by this point, although there were ships of all sizes and description hanging round.
“There!” Tem pointed at the edge of the viewing screen. At this distance from the orbital, most of the nearby ships were visible as points of light, their velocities diminished in the expanse of space. Beyond them, Tem could just make out a faint object, dimmer than the rest. It was moving fast—orders of magnitude faster than anything else. Even this far out it was streaking towards Earth. “The Enigma.”
There was barely time to register what happened. In a fraction of a second the Enigma rifled towards the orbital and collided. It wasn’t like on the movies, with the sequence of events orchestrated to be comprehensible for the human brain. It just happened. One moment the orbital was intact and the next it was a flash of tangled, convulsing debris. A cone of fire and metal blossomed from the other side in an enormous exit wound, reaching out around Earth’s horizon. It was unreal. Millions upon millions of fragments glittered in reflected light across the face of the planet. Out of the storm of destruction emerged what was left of the orbital; three broken hulks lurching away from each other, their innards spilling out into space.