“I think we’re coming up on the town,” Adam announced. The radar was showing a protuberance rising out of the flat ground eight kilometers ahead of them, the first real interruption to the wet desert’s monotony.
Rosamund crowded over his shoulder, staring at the screen. “Yeah that’s got to be it. Coordinates match.”
Adam squinted, his retinal inserts on maximum resolution. Beyond the dreary sweep of the windshield wipers the radiant fog remained resolutely impenetrable. He checked the radar again. “Is that size right?” His foot instinctively eased off the accelerator.
“I guess so.” Rosamund sounded perturbed now.
Calling this region the wet desert should have warned Adam; Far Away’s inhabitants were a literal lot. The stone wave was a ridge of red sedimentary rock almost two kilometers long, and rising up to three hundred meters along its smooth crest. Erosion had eviscerated one side, sculpting a gigantic overhanging cavity that ran for two-thirds of the length and extending up to three hundred meters deep. Looking at it as they approached from the southern end, Adam saw it really did have the shape of a huge wave, frozen as it started to curve over. According to his files, geologists were still arguing if it had eroded before or after the ocean withdrew.
Stonewave’s buildings were laid out in the center of the giant overhang where the arching roof was at its highest, a hundred fifty meters to the crest. Although they varied in size they all followed the same simple oblong box design, standing on short stilts to keep them perfectly level. Their walls, floors, and roofs were made from identical blank carbon squares fixed to a sturdy frame. Tucked into the hollow of the wave they were protected from the worst of the elements; the rain never touched them, though the morning wind was still formidable as it eddied over the sheltering rock.
The little town existed only to support the hypergliders. Two of the buildings were fitted out as luxury hotels with fifteen beds each for the ultra-rich tourists who came here to test their luck and nerves in the morning storms. The tourist company staff shared three dormitory blocks; there was a diesel generator, a waste recycling plant, garages, and hangars.
Adam drove the cab up onto the rock floor and braked outside one of the hangars with a sign above the sliding doors that read GRAND TRIAD ADVENTURES. His e-butler had been trying to establish a link to the building management arrays with no result. When he scanned around with his retinal insets on infrared the geometric buildings were a uniform temperature.
“Looks like it’s deserted,” he said.
“The companies would have shut it down once the tourists stopped coming,” Rosamund said.
“Christ, I hope they left the hypergliders.”
“No reason not to.”
Adam went back to check on Paula. The Investigator was asleep on her little cot, knees drawn up toward her chest. Her forehead was slick with sweat and her breathing was now very shallow. Every now and then she would make a gulping sound as if she were drowning. Adam stared down at her in dismay. He simply didn’t know what to do about her. The sedatives had their limits, and none of the drugs or biogenics had made the slightest difference to her overall condition. He was scared to apply the diagnostic array for fear of what it would tell him.
“Stay here and watch her,” he told Rosamund.
She started to protest but he waved her down. “We don’t know this illness is for real,” Adam said, feeling a complete hypocrite. “And if she wakes up you must get her to drink. Force her if necessary.” In addition to all his other concerns was how long it’d been since she’d eaten anything. The medical kit did contain equipment for intravenous feeding, but he didn’t want to go down that route until he had no choice.
He left the cab quickly, shamed at his own relief to be leaving the problem behind. The other Volvo cab had parked just behind his. Wilson was already climbing down when Kieran turned the engine off. It was as if the sound had been sucked away. Between them the stone and fog did weird things to acoustics. Adam glanced up at the curving overhang feeling unnerved for no reason he could pin down.
“How’s Paula?” Wilson asked.
“No change,” Adam replied curtly. “Did you get your arrays modified to handle the comrelay function Samantha needs?”
“We think so, yes; the range is a problem. We took some of the Volvo’s modules apart and realigned them. The new unit should do the trick, but we only got one. I want to take the modules from your cab, and I’m hoping that the vehicles here should have similar electronics.”
“They ought to,” Jamas said. He’d climbed down from the cab along with Anna and Oscar. “The vehicles which the tourist companies use have to keep in contact over long distances. They’ve probably got better transmitters than the Volvos.”
“Okay, you and Kieran search around for them. We’ll need them to tow the hypergliders anyway. And be careful; we don’t know this place is deserted. The four of us will take the hangars.”
There was a small door on the side of the Grand Triad Adventures hangar. Adam had to shoot the lock out with a low-power ion pulse. It was so dark inside that even his retinal inserts were struggling to produce an image. He fumbled around and found the light switch. There must have been some kind of reserve power supply; long polyphoto strips came on, strangely yellow after the unending monochrome glow of the fog. Eight hypergliders rested on their transport cradles. They were in their primary configuration, a fat cigar shape with wings and tailplane buds retracted into flat triangles against the fuselage.
Oscar whistled in admiration. “Nice machinery.”
“You guys had better check them over,” Adam said. “This is your scene.”
“Sure,” Wilson said. “See if you can find the hangar’s arrays, please; we’ll need the maintenance records.”
“And their performance specs,” Anna added. Her extensive pattern of OCtattoos was emerging to gleam with a gold luster under the hangar lights. “This is one difficult trajectory we’re going to have to fly. The arc has got to terminate just right.”
“We’ll have to perform a standard overflight trajectory to begin with,” Wilson said. “Once you’re out of the twister you’ll be able to adapt the flight profile; kill the velocity and alter the angle to give a touchdown behind Aphrodite’s Seat. You can always lose speed, you won’t be able to gain it. It’ll be tricky, but one of us should manage to get close enough.”
Oscar shot Adam a fast accusing look.
“They must have some sort of summit landing capacity built in,” Anna was saying. “They can’t all hop over the top successfully.”
“If you haven’t got the velocity high enough you’re supposed to veer off and go around,” Wilson said. He found the manual release for the cockpit canopy on the first hyperglider, and twisted it. The transparent bubble hinged up smoothly. Wilson bent over the rim. “Here we go.”
Adam’s e-butler reported the hyperglider’s pilot array had just come on-line. He held Oscar’s gaze uncompromisingly for a moment, then ducked into the office at the back of the hangar. The air inside was musty after being sealed up for so long; every surface had a damp chill to it. Some of the metal items even had a slight coating of condensation.
The desktop array came on as soon as he touched the power stud. Even better, its programs and files didn’t have encrypted access. He started to pull up the general information.
“Adam,” Kieran called on an encrypted link, “we’ve found the jeeps they use for towing the hypergliders over to Stakeout Canyon. Talk about wind resistant, they look like bubbles. I think they’ve got anchors, too.”
“Good. See if they’ve got a service log. We’ll take the two with the best record.”
“Will do. Uh, aren’t we taking three hypergliders?”
“I’ll talk to you guys about that in a minute.”
“Okay. They all need fueling up anyway. Jamas is going to track down the main diesel tank.”
Adam found a file containing the Grand Triad Adventures introduction to hypergliding, and ga
ve his e-butler a list of the specific information he wanted extracted. “What about the drilling equipment they use to tether the gliders?” he asked Kieran.
“Not here. I’ll scout around when I’ve sorted out the jeeps.”
“Right.” A standard itinerary popped up into Adam’s virtual vision. “Damn, we’re going to have to be quick. They normally leave for Stakeout Canyon at noon. That gives the crews time to position the hypergliders in the evening and get clear while it’s still light.”
“We’ll manage it.”
Adam’s e-butler had pulled out several sections from the introduction now. He skimmed through them until he found the files on skill memory. The implant was done in a room off the side of the office. He opened the door and found what looked like the kind of waiting area you’d get in a modestly successful legal firm. The exception was the five comfortable leather couches arranged along the back wall, each with its own sophisticated array. A dark mold was starting to spread out of the edges of the slightly damp leather; the first living organism they’d seen since they arrived on the wet desert. He checked the power reserves on the arrays.
“I’ve found the skill memory implanters,” he told the others as he came back into the hangar.
Five of the hypergliders had been opened. Wilson was sitting in the cockpit of one, his hands resting on the console i-spots. Below and behind him the wing buds flexed as if something inside them wanted to be birthed.
“Well done,” Wilson said.
“Not quite. There’s a slight problem. The humidity back there is even worse than in here. It’s screwed up some of the array connections. I’m really only happy with one of the systems. You’ll have to go one at a time. I’ll settle Oscar in first.”
“Okay,” Wilson said.
Oscar’s stony expression was unreadable.
“How’s it going out here?” Adam asked.
“We’re running through the preflight checklists,” Oscar told Adam quietly. “So far all five seem operational.”
Anna walked past, hauling a thick superconductor cable that she plugged into a socket on the second hyperglider. “They’re going to need charging before we take them out. The secondary power supply is okay, but they can’t fly on that. We need the main cells charged; the electromuscle and plyplastic have a lot of work to do.”
“I think the town generator was in the first building we came past,” Adam said. “Oh, and we need to leave soonest. The drive to Stakeout Canyon from here normally takes a good six hours. Then we have to plant the tether anchors.”
Wilson stood up in the cockpit. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
“We need tether cables for the hypergliders as well,” Anna said. “They must be around here somewhere.”
“You two sort that out,” Adam said. “I’ll get Oscar up to speed on the joys of hypergliding.”
“There’s plenty to go around,” Anna said. She was grinning as she gestured around the hangar. “Fancy joining us?”
“Not at my age and weight, thank you.”
Wilson clambered down out of the cockpit. He zipped up the front of his fleece. “Keep an eye on the checklists for me, please.”
“Will do,” Adam promised.
Oscar looked along the row of couches in the rear room. One of them had its array activated; green LEDs were shining on the front of the unit. He gave a snort of disgust. “Water damage my ass!”
“We still need them to get the hyperglider ready for you.”
“This is wrong. The odds are completely against me getting up there intact.”
“So tell me which one of them is the Starflyer agent?”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Exactly. Lie back on the couch.”
Oscar did as he was told. He rested his wrists on the i-spots. “Interfaced,” he said.
Adam’s virtual vision confirmed the connection. He told his e-butler to initiate the program. Plyplastic cushioning flowed over Oscar’s wrists.
“The induction prep phase will last about a minute,” he said, reading from the menu. “Implantation is eight minutes.”
“And integrity review is another minute,” Oscar said. “Yes, thank you. I went through this enough times when I was with the CST exploratory division. The junk we needed to know for that …”
“Relax please,” Adam said dryly. He moved his virtual hands across the icons, initiating the induction preparation phase.
Oscar’s eyes were already closed. Now his face began a series of minute twitches to accompany the REM.
Adam went back into the hangar. Two of the hypergliders were still running through their checklists. No problems had been red-flagged.
He was peering into the cockpit of one when he heard a sound behind him. Lifted his head to see who it was. “Oh, couldn’t you—”
The slim harmonic blade was rammed into the base of his skull, angled perfectly to slice up into his brain.
The quantumbuster would not load into its launch tube. There was nothing Ozzie or the SIsubroutine could do to make the fat missile slide out of its magazine rack into the tube. Not one goddamn thing. He’d tried every trick he could think of. Forcing power into the electromuscle handling arms. That just made them spasm and flash up burnout overload warnings in his virtual vision. Getting the SIsubroutine to review the code for the whole magazine management program. Its analysis proved that the software was effective. Running diagnostic after diagnostic on the physical mechanism. The scrutiny showed every component was fully functional.
It still didn’t work.
Ozzie let out a furious snarl. There was a dark pressure inside his head that was growing with each passing hour. He’d never known frustration like it. To have got to this point only to be blocked by some kind of glitch was the kind of irony that only a truly badass god would practice.
There is a logical reason why this machine does not work; therefore I will find the fault.
When he looked around his virtual vision at the appallingly complex architecture of the launch mechanism all he could think to do was beat his virtual fists against it. His inability to concentrate wasn’t helped by lack of food. Two days now. He hadn’t slept much during that time, either.
There was an unexpected yet familiar rustling sound in the cabin that drew Ozzie’s attention back through the virtual structure. On the right-hand couch Mark was floating a couple of centimeters above the cushioning with his back toward Ozzie. The rustling came again.
“Yo, Mark what’s … Hey. Wait a goddamn minute! Is that CHOCOLATE?”
Mark rotated lazily, his cheeks bulging as he munched away contentedly. One hand held the torn and crumpled wrappings of a Cadbury’s milk chocolate bar. He peeled the purple foil away from the last four squares and popped them defiantly into his mouth.
“You bastard!” an outraged Ozzie yelled. “I’m like fucking starving here and you’ve had a secret supply of food all along.”
“Lunch box,” Mark mumbled through his clogged mouth. “Mine.”
“We’re in this together! Son of a bitch, where’s your humanity? The only thing I’ve had in the last two days is water. And we both know where that comes from.”
Mark finished the chocolate with a big swallow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you forget to steal sandwiches from the kindergarten before you kidnapped me on a hijacked starship?”
“This is my ship! I paid for half of it.”
“Fine, so just open the TD channel and explain that to Nigel Sheldon.”
Ozzie wanted to thump the arrays in front of him. “What the fuck were you in an earlier life, a lawyer?”
“You’ve killed me!” Mark bellowed back. “What in that twisted-up piece of wreckage you call a brain made you think I’d be grateful? Please, I’m interested. Do tell.”
“If you’d actually close your mouth and listen to me then maybe your low-achiever IQ could just get a handle on what I’m telling you.”
“At least I’ve got an IQ larger than my shoe size.”
“Dick
head!”
“Wanker!” Mark tossed the empty wrapper at Ozzie. “Oh, and traitor, too.”
“I am not a fucking Starflyer agent. Man, why will no one ever pay attention to me?”
“Was that another rhetorical question from the giddy heights of your intellect?”
“I am not a violent person, but if you don’t stop that right now I swear I am going to kick your ass through the cabin wall.”
“Would that be the insults or the shouting I’m to stop?”
Ozzie clenched his fists. Ready to—Just about going to—“Jeez! How did you ever get through our personnel screening program? Nobody in this galaxy could stand working next to you. You are the most goddamn irritating person I have ever met.”
“Was it your charm which impressed Giselle? Or did she just feel sorry for you because of your hairstyle?”
Ozzie’s hand automatically went up to pat at his hair that was floating around like an agitated jellyfish in the cabin’s freefall environment. “This is fashionable, man,” he said in an icy voice.
“Where?”
Mark sounded so genuinely curious it threw Ozzie’s thought processes, preventing him from coming out with a reply. Besides … “Look, we’re getting off track here, man. I’ve apologized like thirty billion times for what happened back there in the dock. I never meant for you to be dragged along.”
“How do you think my kids will cope without me? They’re both under ten, for Christ’s sake. You’ve taken me from them to die alone in interstellar space, and now the Commonwealth is going to lose the war because of your treachery. They’ll have to take flight on the lifeboats. Chased across the galaxy by an alien fiend never knowing if they’ve truly escaped while the rest of their species is systematically hunted down and wiped out. Don’t you have children? Try to remember your feelings for them from before it took over your mind.”
“I am not a fucking Starflyer agent!” Ozzie screamed. He took a moment to calm down. When he glanced over at Mark, he saw a smug grin on the man’s face. “All right, put your superior logical IQ to work on this: What’s the point in me stealing the Charybdis?”
The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle Page 221