by B. V. Larson
“Forget about that. I’m not offended. Just tell me who wants Fryx so badly.”
“Why, the skalds, of course.”
“The skalds? They’re here on Neu Schweitz?”
“They’ve always been here. And they seem agitated lately. They know you are holding Fryx, and they want him. They consider him to be some sort of political prisoner.”
“Nonsense. I brought him back for the research labs to study.”
The senator gasped. “A sentient being?”
“I didn’t say they were going to dissect him. I said I wanted them to take a look at him.”
“He’s not an animal, Droad,” said the Senator with severity.
“But the aliens that nearly wiped us out on Garm are, eh?”
“Perceptions are everything. Will you give up Fryx? I had hoped, in fact, that you would have brought him with you.”
Droad blinked at him for a moment. He understood suddenly why the Senator was talking to him when everyone else at the Nexus considered him to be a plague-carrier. He wanted Fryx. Droad thought about that carefully. That little monster was possibly the only chip he had.
“I have him, and I’m willing to hand him over to you, so you can make as big a ceremony as you wish about ‘freeing’ him and giving him to the skalds.”
The Senator smiled for the first time since their private talk had begun. Droad smiled back. He had guessed correctly.
“But I’ll want your help first, of course.”
The Senator’s smile vanished.
“First, I want you to listen to things I’ve learned. Things that might not have been utterly clear from my reports.”
Droad went on at length, explaining the signals the Skaintz had broadcast on tight, directional beams to the nearby stars.
“And you have the proof of all this?” asked the Senator, in a tone that suggested he hoped Droad did not have any proof.
“Yes, aboard ship.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
Droad snorted. “Why, I want you to warn everyone, of course. You don’t have to make a public matter of it. Summon Nexus Command. I’ll brief them.”
Fouty shook his head. “I can’t do that. It’s an election year. You and I will be connected. People are in an anti-incumbent mood this time around, Droad. Before my opponent is finished it will appear that you and I are joined at the hip. So far, he’s not even brought up the fact that I helped appoint you. I don’t need that point made to the people now.”
“You have three votes in the Senate, man. This the time to use them for the benefit of everyone in the cluster. In fact, I think you should warn Old Earth itself.”
Droad thought hard. He had to get them to listen. It had been years since he had operated in this planet’s unique political system. Neu Schweitz maintained an unusual political structure—a complex parliamentary system that was oddly arcane even for a colony world on the fringe of human space. It was related to the original Swiss model, a Federation of provinces known as cantons. Each canton operated as an independent state for internal affairs, but also bowed to the central Federal government for issues of worldwide importance. In the case of Neu Schweitz, that central government had grown to have loose governmental control of the neighboring worlds such as Garm. The expansion to multiple worlds had changed the central government name from Federation to Nexus.
In a variation of the Swiss system, Neu Schweitz and the entire Nexus were governed by a Senate made up of representatives from every canton and each frontier colony world, such as Garm. Being from the most populous canton on the planet, Senator Fouty had three votes.
Staying in office so long had been a serious trick for the distinguished Senator, however. He rarely wielded his true power. When a contentious vote came up, in fact, he was known to vote once for, once against, and then abstain with his third vote.
At length, the Senator refused to entertain using his political clout to alert the Nexus directly.
Droad stood up suddenly. “Then I’m on my own. I’ll tell the Militia myself.”
“Hold on, man!” said the Senator, hopping up and getting another drink for them both.
The Senator was capable of moving his considerable bulk with surprising speed, Droad noted. It must have been the gentle gravity.
“There’s no need for rash talk,” said Fouty. “Here, have another drink. Two fine minds like ours should be able to come to some kind of accommodation.”
Reluctantly, Droad sat and took the proffered drink. He let it melt in the glass this time, however, drinking none of it.
They talked at length. At times the discussion became heated.
“Droad, I’m willing to give you some kind of official standing, but really it’s an unwarranted imposition.”
“If the aliens do come to the Kale system, people will think it is more than warranted, Senator.”
Fouty waved his words away. “Please, not another speech about your aliens.”
“I’ll require a commission, an appointment with the proper documentation.”
“I’ll make you an Inspector. There is a vacancy... a certain Commander Werner Goll was killed in an illegal duel two weeks ago. You will be able to come and go as part of our civilian oversight. I can’t guarantee anyone will listen to you, however.”
“Fair enough.”
“Good! We are in agreement at last! Simply deliver this Fryx creature to me and I’ll code the directives into the net.”
“No sir,” said Droad. “I’ll give you Fryx after I’ve gotten the appointment.”
“Unacceptable.”
Droad stood up and began dressing himself. He had to struggle to get his clothes on over his sweaty flesh.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving, Senator.”
“Nonsense! Let’s talk it over further.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. Give me the appointment. I’ll bring you Fryx. I’ll do it just before the election, if you like. You can make a show of it, looking like the peace-maker right before the polls open.”
“Hmm,” said Fouty. “Okay, I’ll do it. But don’t press me further, Droad. I—”
“There is one more thing, sir. I need orders in case my worst fears are realized. The letter shall give me the power to represent the Senate if aliens invade.”
The Senator snorted. “I can’t do—”
“But you can, sir. As Chairman of the Planetary Defense committee—”
“Oh, I suppose that technically I could.”
“It will only be used in the gravest emergency, and we can write it to that effect.”
Droad had to stage another walk-out and was in fact fully dressed and sweating before he managed to wrest a blue, nano-cloth envelope from the Senator’s hand. With these credentials, he could come and go as he pleased amongst the bases and Nexus Command. The position would allow him to quietly alert the Militia brass, and to inspect their overall defensive posture. He was expected to make a full report on their state of readiness to face any alien threat.
The Senator, for his part, insisted that Droad take Zuna with him. Droad knew she would obviously spy for the Senator, but didn’t know how to say no. Instead, he asked that he be permanently assigned Rem-9 as his aide. The Senator agreed to pull the right strings to arrange it with Nexus Command.
“I’ll be going then, sir,” Droad said at last.
“Bruno will take you back to the spaceport. Oh, and Inspector Droad?”
“Yes sir?”
“Make time to check out our little base on Crom. You’ll find it interesting, I’m certain.”
“Crom sir?”
“Yes. Zuna will guide you.”
When Droad finally left the stifling sauna, he thought the Senator looked glad to see him go.
Eleven
The original wave of colonists had been reactionaries evading the grasp of the Cognitive Collectivists of Old Earth, like so many others. In the case of this world, they’d come from a small nation
known as Switzerland, or Der Schweitz in their own tongue. Attracted by the planet’s similar geography to their homeland, fifty thousand Swiss colonists had thrived on their new world.
In ancient Switzerland, a land remembered for staunch neutrality and self-determination, the Collectivists had found an indigestible article. Like a great maw, the Collectivists had consumed most of the independent governments of Old Earth within a century, but Switzerland had held out. Like a stone in the monster’s mouth, they had refused to be eaten. At the end of the third century after humanity first left Earth’s surface, however, it was clear that even Switzerland’s independence was in very real question. Before the end, their colony ships had begun something of an exodus. The people of Switzerland reached out to seed several worlds within a cluster of star systems, but the favorite had always been Neu Schweitz, with its skyscraping mountains, icy lakes, green valleys and small stormy oceans.
Just as their Swiss ancestors had done before them, the colonists believed in a strong, personal defense. Every able-bodied person was required to perform two years of service in their youth, giving their time to the militia or other Nexus organizations. Every male was required to maintain personal weaponry in his home, and must be ready to report to a Nexus summons within thirty hours, the length of one local day.
As a consequence to their defensive focus, they had built a variety of military bases, including a major one on Crom, the largest of Neu Schweitz’s seventeen moons. The heavily cratered surface and deep caverns that riddled the moon made Crom unsuitable as a beam platform. Structures built on its surface weren’t given a broad enough field of fire. In simulations there was always some spire of rock sticking up, preventing a laser from sighting on an approaching enemy that carefully chose its angle of attack. But for quiet, ship-construction efforts, the moon excelled. A ship built there wouldn’t require much thrust to escape the minimal gravity. As a bonus, without an atmosphere, ship design required no considerations for aerodynamic niceties.
By Earth standards, Crom was rather small, being a spheroid roughly two hundred kilometers in diameter. But it was large enough for appreciable gravity, which made construction tasks easier to perform. Ships were often built in orbital shipyards, but this wasn’t the ideal arrangement. Working without gravity to push against, men and robots alike had a difficult time of it.
Another advantage Crom possessed as a construction base was its large nickel-iron content, providing significant mining opportunities. Once the automated drilling pits and fusion-powered smelters were operating, basic raw materials for construction were inexhaustible and didn’t require costly transportation to the site. With all these matters carefully weighed, when the decision had been made by the Nexus Senate six years earlier to build a secret shipyard, Crom had been the logical choice.
And so a large group of determined individuals worked in secret in a tremendous cavern beneath Crom’s deepest crater. Many were professional members of the Nexus Fleet. The ship they constructed was a modified copy of the battleships built by the Cognitive Collectivists back on Old Earth. None of them had actually seen such a vessel, but they had digital files describing them in detail.
Commodore Gaston Beauchamp of Starforce oversaw the construction of the battleship, which had been christened the Zürich. If all went well, he would be her captain when she tore open the flat bottom of the crater she grew beneath and rose up on her maiden voyage.
“Lieutenant,” said Beauchamp, “provide your report.”
“We have difficulties, sir,” said young Lieutenant Karin Minard, who was his executive officer. A curled lock of her hair had slipped out of her cap. She looked flushed, despite the carefully modulated temperature in the command bunker.
“Specify.”
The Lieutenant tapped at her computer-scroll. The thin plastic film shifted, its surface filling with print. “It’s the Orion propulsion system. The bomb chutes aren’t safe—not even to work on. The radiation has damaged our synthetic workers. They can only operate for a day or two without failure.”
“Then repair them.”
“We are out of spare parts. The downtime on the robotic systems is increasing every day. In short Commodore, we are delayed, just as when you asked yesterday.”
Beauchamp drew in a breath. “There will be no delays, Lieutenant.”
“But sir—”
“Lieutenant,” said Beauchamp, softly, dangerously. “Let me be perfectly clear. There will be no delays. Work will continue. The oblation shield is perfectly safe. No radiation penetrates it. The bomb chutes are the only path down below it, and they must be completed and operational. How else can this monstrous vessel lift off? Can you answer me that, Lieutenant?”
“I cannot, sir. But we are simply out of synthetics. They have all broken down.”
Beauchamp tapped at his steel table with a stylus. Almost everything on Crom was built of steel or molded bubble-crete. The automated smelters provided an endless supply of both. One could become quite bored with stark, unpainted surfaces, but military life wasn’t about aesthetics.
Beauchamp stopped tapping idly with his stylus and moved it instead with purpose over his desk. He indicated one wall, which was formed of molded bubble-crete like all the others. It resembled gray Swiss cheese. Some of the bubbles were big enough to stick a finger into them. That wall vanished and in its place appeared a vid screen. He pointed to it.
“I’m going to show you something, Minard. Even though technically, I shouldn’t.”
Lieutenant Minard obediently looked at the screen. Her computer-scroll rattled in her hands.
A scene from the asteroid belt flashed up on the screen. In the foreground was a mining operation made of white shining metal. Dust puffed up from the drilling operations in a continuous plume. In the background were crags of black stone and a startlingly brilliant field of stars. The sound wasn’t turned off, but as the scene was shot in vacuum, there wasn’t anything to carry a vibration to the camera.
“This was shot last night,” said Beauchamp.
As they watched, at first nothing seemed amiss. But then one of the stars in the beautiful sky grew brighter.
The Lieutenant fidgeted. Beauchamp glanced at her and smiled grimly. There could be little doubt to any observer that unpleasantness was about to erupt on that screen.
Soon, a dozen of the stars grew, morphing from stars into silvery specs. These specs moved and expanded with startling rapidity.
“They aren’t using their lasers,” said Minard.
“Just watch.”
The mining base now had warning lights on, flashing yellows all over the complex. A few vacc-suited individuals tottered about, struggling to move quickly in the low gravity environment. One man miscalculated and shot up more than a hundred meters into the air. In a panic, he must have used the full strength of his leg muscles. He wouldn’t be coming down for a minute or two. If his luck was bad enough, he might have achieved escape-velocity.
The Lieutenant fidgeted uncomfortably. Her eyes were slits, as if she wanted to shut out the visions that were soon to come.
“They aren’t slowing down,” said the Lieutenant. “How will they steal anything without landing?” She gasped suddenly, as if coming to a conclusion. “Are those incoming missiles?”
“Just watch,” repeated Beauchamp.
The silvery shapes grew and finally, with almost greater speed than any eye could catch, slipped over the base with blinding velocity. Two green lasers stabbed up at the ships, but no obvious damage was done to the streaking attackers. They watched as flaring blue plumes of gas still vented from every ship.
“They are accelerating as they pass over?” asked the Lieutenant aloud. “What kind of a raid is this?”
A blinding flash filled the vid screen then, making both officers squint.
“What the—” said Minard, but she got no farther as another blinding flash erupted and the video ended a fraction of a second later.
“They bombed the mine?” sh
e asked. Her eyes were wide. The lock of hair that had been threatening to slip out of her cap had now emerged fully. Beauchamp thought she looked better that way. She always dressed too severely, in his opinion. Even if she was Fleet, she could try to look like a woman.
“Exactly,” said Beauchamp, “and I want you to know that vid feed was from a mine in asteroid belt Alpha.”
Lieutenant Minard blinked at him.
Beauchamp knew what she was thinking. Of the Kale star system’s two asteroid belts, the inner was called Alpha, and the outer Beta. The Vlax Romani had never attacked the inner belt. There was no point. If you wanted to steal something, why go twice as far to get it? The outer belt was far closer to their gas giant stronghold, Minerva. But in this case, the Vlax had not been on a mission to steal. They had been out to destroy.
“No lasers. No looting,” she said, in a slow, puzzled voice. “They just blew the place up. Why not simply send missiles, if that was the mission? Why fly all the way out there with ships?”
The Commodore nodded. Inwardly, he smiled. He finally had the Lieutenant’s full attention. He needed this woman on his side. That mining base had been owned by his family. A great deal of Beauchamp wealth had been obliterated last night. He was unsure if the Vlax knew that, but it hardly mattered. The war had become personal now. It had affected him directly. And the Vlax Romani weren’t going to get away with it.
“I couldn’t figure that one out myself, for awhile,” said Beauchamp. “But after careful thought, I’ve come to two conclusions. One of which is obvious: the enemy are no longer content to raid us for spare parts and supplies. They have decided to step up the assaults. They are trying to really hurt us.”
“And the second conclusion?”
“They are short on electronics,” said Beauchamp.
Lieutenant Minard looked at him expectantly.
“You see, the evidence is all right there in the scenario. They didn’t fire missiles, because missiles require computer guidance. They came all the way in and dropped dumb bombs on us. Nukes, of course. Each strike was a dumb weapon, dropped directly. Again, no electronics. No chips were wasted.”