by Ryk E. Spoor
“What final stage?”
Orphan’s head tilted, even as she heard the cables linking Zounin-Ginjou and Thilomon beginning to release. “The destruction of Thilomon, of course. All the other ships have been completely destroyed, and there are no survivors. These are the last, and—”
“Absolutely not.”
DuQuesne wasn’t surprised. The idea of shooting an unarmed, depowered sitting duck of a target containing a few hundred people stuck in his craw too—and he had no doubt Simon would never agree to it if he was conscious. Orphan had already done that—in the mop-up of the battle—and it had taken a lot of his self-control to keep from saying anything, even though it was Orphan’s ship and Orphan’s choice. Wu Kung looked conflicted.
To his surprise, though, it was Sethrik who rose slowly to face Ariane. “You agreed with—or did not contradict—my order to destroy the other vessels, Captain. I thought you understood.” His voice was unsteady, and DuQuesne guessed that the conflict within the Blessed Leader was even greater than he had thought. How hard must it be to have a sort of near-hive mind, and the unity the Minds give you, and then turn on that unity?
But Sethrik continued. “You had told me that you felt you had failed, that this was your fault. Are you going to now continue the mistakes that you have made?”
Ariane folded her arms over her chest. “I did say that. And it was true, then. We were still in a battle, you had to stop the others from fleeing, and there wasn’t anything I could have done about it one way or the other. But this . . . I’m sorry. I can’t just stand here and allow hundreds of people to be killed just for the sake of political convenience and safety. We have to at least try to find another solution.”
She turned to DuQuesne. “Marc, why can’t we just leave them here? They won’t starve or suffocate, not drifting here in the Arena, but without power they’re going nowhere. There’s no one to tell.”
He shook his head, even as Orphan’s hands flicked outward. “You’re forgetting, Ariane; this is one of the major routes—most direct routes—from the Blessed’s homeworld to Nexus Arena. There’s probably Blessed vessels coming through here every couple of days. If Thilomon and her escorts don’t show up on time, they’ll just send out a party to search the area. They won’t get much out of the rest of the wreckage, but you can bet your bottom dollar they’d find Thilomon if we left it here.”
Ariane’s jaw tightened, then she sighed. “Yes, I guess they would. But there has to be an alternative.”
“Why does there have to be one, Captain Austin?” Sethrik asked quietly. “Often the universe does not give us choices.”
DuQuesne’s mind agreed with Sethrik . . . but not his gut. And he knew which one he had to go with. “Because that’s not the way she works. Maybe when the guns are shooting and you’re under that kind of pressure, yeah, maybe then you have to make the choice of the greater evil versus the lesser one. But when you’ve got time, you haven’t got the excuse of desperation. That’s when you find a new choice . . . or make one.”
Sethrik and Orphan clearly did not entirely agree, but they did look thoughtful.
For several minutes no one said anything. Then Ariane looked out the viewport and pointed. “Well, we were—partly still are—connected to her. Can’t we tow her somewhere far enough that they won’t find her?”
“Alas, Captain Austin, to do that in this region—which as you might expect is mapped fairly extensively by the Blessed—would require us to travel a very long distance through Arenaspace. Not only would that potentially lead to us getting lost, but also it would take a considerable time and portion of our energy reserves, and to leave we would have to come back to the known Sky Gates . . . and with Blessed traffic there would be an excellent chance we would find ourselves once more in a battle before escaping.”
Wu Kung spoke up. “Couldn’t we just drag Thilomon along with us through the Sky Gates somehow? No, wait . . . we’d just end up bringing them to Nexus Arena, and we don’t want that, do we?”
“It would not work in any case, Sun Wu Kung,” Orphan said. “Remember that the use of the Sky Gates is through the Sandrisson Drive, which must be specifically configured for the vessel, which must have active Sandrisson coils surrounding it. To jump with Thilomon in tow would most likely simply sever our connection with Thilomon and might have other less . . . entertaining effects.”
Another silence.
“How many survivors are there, exactly?” asked Ariane.
“Three hundred eleven,” Sethrik answered promptly. “Wu Kung . . . was surprisingly nonlethal. I appreciate the effort you went to in sparing their lives, and I must express my gratitude to you, Captain Austin, that you are attempting to find some solution which will not throw their lives away again.”
“Could you fit that many in your cargo bays, Orphan?”
Orphan went rigid for a moment. “I . . . in theory . . . yes, I suppose. Zounin-Ginjou is intended to carry a great deal of cargo on occasion. But you cannot be seriously thinking of bringing over three hundred Blessed and trying to keep them imprisoned?”
DuQuesne saw that Ariane was still wrestling with the next step, but he had a sudden inspiration. “Not imprison. Transfer. You’ve been around a long time, Orphan. You’ve got to have found other Spheres on occasion, ones that aren’t active—no native race. Maybe even marked ’em down for colonization if you ever got more members of the Liberated.”
Orphan bobbed a slow agreement. “I . . . believe I see your course, Doctor. If we can securely carry them aboard Zounin-Ginjou for a few days, we could transfer them to a location I know, and the Blessed do not, and leave them there. Without a ship, it could take them years, even centuries, to find a way off. It would be . . . a life sentence of exile, but need not be murder.”
“Would you be willing to take that risk?” Ariane asked. “I realized while we were thinking that I can’t give orders at all here. This is your ship, not mine. I’m sorry.”
Orphan laughed. “Apology accepted, Captain Austin. And in truth . . .” He looked at Sethrik, then out at the wreck of Thilomon. “. . . in truth, Captain, Sethrik, I can still well remember my days as one of the Blessed. Those are my people as well, Sethrik. I think you now understand fully what drove me to where I am.”
“I do,” Sethrik said quietly.
“Then you understand my hostility is towards the Minds, and towards the Blessed when they act against myself and my friends. Not towards our people as individuals.” He turned back to Ariane, and DuQuesne could see her smile of gratitude as Orphan said, “So yes, Captain Austin, I am very willing to take that risk, if we can find a reasonable manner of bringing them aboard without unleashing them upon Zounin-Ginjou.”
“Do they have a radio? Something I could use to speak with them?”
Sethrik tilted his head, then gave a brisk wing-snap; the effort to rescue his former crew seemed to be bringing him back to himself. “I believe they should.” He went to another panel, made some adjustments. “That should be attuned properly now.”
“Hold on.” She thought. “Orphan, if you have a destination in mind, how long would it take from now until drop-off to get them there?”
“Hmm.” Orphan bent over his console. “Taking into account the need to recharge at one of my . . . reserves, I would say five and a half days. Perhaps slightly less. I assume that you would all remain with me to assist.”
“Yes, of course.” She looked over to Marc. “How much space would they need, at a minimum?”
“For most of a week? Well, I get the impression they can probably handle close quarters together better than a random set of humans. Give ’em two square meters apiece, that’s six hundred twenty-two square meters. Double it for space to move around in, sanitary facilities, so on, say twelve hundred fifty square meters.” He glanced at Orphan. “What’s the dimensions of your largest cargo bay?”
“One hundred twelve by forty-two by twenty-three meters,” Orphan answered promptly. “More than enough space
. But it is not terribly secure.”
“I wasn’t thinking of just using the bay,” Marc said, grinning. “Look. Sethrik, you know the layout of Thilomon. Is there a place we could gather everyone together that would have enough space, and maybe sanitary facilities that’d work for a week for that many people?”
Sethrik stared at him, and then suddenly gave a buzzing laugh as he understood. “You mean to carve out that part of Thilomon as a sort of cargo container and prison. Yes, I believe so. The troop quarters in the central section—they will be somewhat crowded in there, but if you take a three-floor section . . . yes, that would fit in the cargo bay and provide everything they need. If you are careful, you could even give them a low-power connection to keep vital systems working.”
“Power engineering’s my speciality. I’m sure we could.” He grinned at Ariane. “I think we’ve got your solution—if they’ll go for it.”
“Then let’s find out.” Ariane nodded to Orphan to activate the transmitter. “Thilomon, this is Captain Ariane Austin of Humanity. Please respond.”
A few moments later the screen lit with a dim but recognizable image of an injured Blessed. “This is Acting-Guidemaster Hancray. Speak.”
“Hancray? Good, I’m glad Wu Kung’s entrance didn’t kill you,” she said, smiling. Then her face went grimly serious, and DuQuesne saw how she drew herself up. By God, I think she’s finally getting it. “Guidemaster Hancray, I trust you understand your position. Your entire fleet has been wiped out, nothing but wreckage to be found. My bodyguard, whom you thought killed, has been much more merciful with you; a large proportion of your crew are still alive.
“Given the circumstances, I have every reason to wish no word of this to ever reach the Minds. They will realize their brilliant strategem failed utterly, but will learn nothing at all beyond that. The simplest way to assure that this happens is to finish what we began: wipe you out. I also trust you realize that even damaged as she is, Zounin-Ginjou can effectively vaporize your ship.”
“I do. What is your counterproposal? You would not bother to call had you nothing else to offer.” Despite his direct manner, DuQuesne could read his body language. Hancray was afraid. Junior officer, helmsman or something, suddenly in command of a derelict vessel. He watched it all come apart and almost got killed, and now he’s facing Ariane all by himself.
“I would very much rather not kill you,” she said. “So here’s the proposal. All of you will retreat to the troop quarters in the central section of Thilomon. That section—three levels of it—will be removed and brought into Zounin-Ginjou. We will then transport you to an Upper Sphere location where you can survive, and leave you there.”
“Death or permanent exile, then.”
“In her position,” DuQuesne interjected, “what would you be offering? I think she’s being damn generous with you.”
Hancray was silent a moment. “I . . . must confer with my people.”
“I’m giving you exactly five minutes. The longer we wait, the more danger I’m exposing us to. Confer quickly.”
Orphan looked at her as she cut the transmission. “And if they delay . . . ?”
Her lips tightened. “Then we . . . no, I . . . will blow them out of the sky. I don’t want to. I hope they take this offer. But I’m through ignoring my responsibilities. I have to let us get back and deal with the real problem.”
“Heart of gold and still hard as nails,” a weak voice came from behind them. “I approve.”
“Simon!” Ariane went to help him to a chair.
“What the hell are you doing out of bed, Simon?” DuQuesne demanded.
“Couldn’t . . . just stay in bed when you might need me,” he said; the face was pale under the reddened burns and bruises.
Ariane was staring at Simon’s injuries, aghast. “God, Simon. I’m so sorry.”
“Hardly your fault.”
“Yes. Yes it is, Simon. But I won’t let it happen again.”
He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged painfully. “If you insist on taking the blame, I haven’t the energy to argue with you. And who knows, perhaps you’re right. But in that case, apology accepted, it’s all forgotten.”
In a few more minutes, Ariane snapped on the transmitter. “Guidemaster Hancray, do you have an answer for me?”
Hancray immediately appeared. He looked slightly more bedraggled than before, as though despite his injuries he had still gotten in some sort of altercation. “Yes, Captain Austin. After . . . some quick and heated discussion, I have convinced the others to accept your offer.”
She stood rigid and unbending, but DuQuesne knew Ariane very, very well, and he could see the slight shift of her feet, hear the tiny catch in her breath, that showed her great relief. “We will offer no resistance. I will notify you when we are all in the designated quarters. This will take no longer than ten minutes.”
“Acceptable, Guidemaster. I will await your transmission.” She turned to Orphan and Sethrik as the picture faded. “Are we sure there are no weapons they can be preparing for use against us?”
“The ship has effectively no power. The only energy available will be in portable devices,” Orphan answered after a moment. “If they assembled a large number of such—say, rifles, pistols, and so on—they could make a fairly powerful bomb. But they would have to get it outside of Thilomon and onto our hull. Once we have brought them into the cargo bay, it will be quite easy to monitor for any movement. If they attempt to open any door, leave by any route, we simply drop them out into Arenaspace and fire.”
Sethrik bobbed his agreement. “The larger explosive warheads . . . those could pose a problem. But again, they must be maneuvered into place.”
“Hmm. But one of those could still do damage to Zounin-Ginjou even from within the salvaged piece we bring on board.”
“Possibly,” Sethrik answered, and gave an almost cheery wing-snap. “But we do have the last data download from her command structure following the battle. Before transferring them we can hook back in and just check the readiness systems to see if any of the major weapons have been moved or tampered with since.”
“Good enough, then,” Orphan agreed.
The communications panel beeped. “Captain Austin, we are now secure.”
“Thank you, Guidemaster. Now I must caution you again that there must be no resistance. We will also be checking to determine if any large weapons, such as missile warheads, are not in their proper locations. If any such are found to be unaccounted for, I will have the entire ship destroyed. Is that understood?”
A pause. “Understood.” Hancray’s voice was tense.
“Do you require a few moments to verify that all such weapons are accounted for?”
Relief was evident in his reply. “I would greatly appreciate it.”
“As you called back within five minutes, I will give you the additional five I had already granted you. Starting now.”
DuQuesne grinned. From Hancray’s tone, I’ll bet he’d just found out some loyalist group had brought on a big bomb without telling him. Now he’s got the motivation to get the thing off his ship. Maybe they’ll get out of this alive after all.
A few minutes later, Hancray reported that he was certain everything was in order. Orphan and Sethrik verified this with a temporary low-power reboot of Thilomon’s main operational system.
Simon, meanwhile, had somehow brought up a diagram of the interior structure of Thilomon. “Here, Orphan. If you use your energy beams along these lines, you should be able to safely cut it out of the surrounding ship. It should then be easy to drag on board.”
“Truly, Doctor Sandrisson, you astonish me. Yet your information appears quite accurate, if I am to judge by Sethrik’s expression.”
“Quite accurate,” Sethrik confirmed.
“Brace yourselves, Guidemaster Hancray. We are about to cut you free.”
Energy weapons from Zounin-Ginjou’s forward batteries struck out with surgical precision, cutting along four perfect geometri
c lines. A rectangular section of Thilomon slowly floated free, and the top and bottom were also cut off by those irresistable beams of light. Zounin-Ginjou moved slowly in, caught each end of the now-tumbling wreckage with a manipulator, and drew the boxy assemblage into its cargo bay. “Blessed prisoners are now onboard,” Orphan announced.
“Right,” DuQuesne said, and grabbed up his toolbox. “C’mon, Wu. You’ll keep an eye out while I hook ’em up to power to keep their lights on, air flowing, and toilets flushing. Once that’s done, we can get the hell out of here!”
CHAPTER 42
“You clear on what you want us to do, Ariane?”
She could still feel the uncertainty boiling inside her. Maybe it never goes away. Or at least I’d better hope it doesn’t. The last thing she ever wanted was to get used enough to commanding people that she stopped doubting that she was right.
But I still have to act like I’m right. “I think so.”
She stood and faced the small group around the conference table on Zounin-Ginjou. A very small group when you consider that in this room are people making decisions for three separate Factions. “Sethrik, Orphan, you are technically equal in rank to me, so—”
“Please, Captain Austin,” interrupted Sethrik. “We know the situation. This is a point of choice and honor for Humanity. Unless I think your course is insane, I am ready to follow you.”
“And perhaps even if it is insane,” Orphan put in with his usual ironic humor. “Given how often you humans make a habit of insanity.”
She smiled at that. “All right. Well, we’ve gone over what we could drag out of Thilomon’s databanks, especially Vantak’s private files and what Vantak carried with him when he got aboard Zounin-Ginjou. He was awfully cautious, but I think we should be able to use some of what he had planned for our own purposes—especially to flush out the masterminds of the whole thing.”
“If I can get back to our Embassy,” Sethrik said, “I should be able to obtain the final pieces of the puzzle. It is evident that after the basic processing I was expected to return. Therefore they will expect to meet with me and be . . . debriefed. If, of course, I had been killed, Vantak would likely have been appointed Leader, but since Vantak indicated my loyalty was to be renewed, I must assume—and so would our unknown but suspected conspirators—that I would have remained Leader of the Blessed in the Arena.”