The Anguished Dawn

by James P. Hogan

  It had been Tanya's suggestion to position Aztec in a direction tangential to Trojan's wheel and direct Wernstecki's stern-pointing AG beam at the approaching side of it, thus speeding it up. But since gravity, like any force, is a two-way affair, this also had the effect of drawing Aztec in the opposite direction, toward Trojan. Aztec, however, had one factor working for it that Trojan didn't: Its main drive was aligned with Wernstecki's beam and when fired would oppose it. Hence, using the analogy Wernstecki had given when he first described his inspiration to the others, Aztec had the equivalent of something to dig its heels into when throwing its grapnel and jerking on the line.

  One complication remained. The sensitive fusion optics in Aztec's stern wouldn't function while the AG beam, coming from the cargo holds forward of the propulsion section, was active. Hence, the procedure they had been forced to adopt was first to fire the main drive to accelerate Aztec away from Trojan; then cut the drive and energize the AG beam, which would act as a brake and retard it; then repeat the cycle. The momentum acquired by Aztec and then lost again was thus transferred to Trojan in a series of massive pulses, each one adding to its rotation like successive pushes to a children's carousel. Which of course increased gravity inside all the modules as well as putting all kinds of extra stresses on the spoke and support structures—with hopefully deleterious effect.

  It was having other effects too, Wernstecki could see for himself on the screen without having to consult the analyzer readouts—although it had been expected. He was still at the monitor console in the control compartment by the cargo hold, frantically trying to synchronize the beam dynamics with the firing of the ship's drive, which Reese was directing from the Bridge, coordinating via one of Wernstecki's screens. Trojan wasn't just increasing rotational speed about its longitudinal axis; the axis itself was building up a tumbling motion of its own. The gravity pulses from Aztec were being applied to one side of the wheel only, producing an imbalance of force that was setting the whole structure into gyration like a wobbly spinning top. Carried to completion, this would result in a second, end-over-end mode of rotation superimposed on the first. What the effects would be on the occupants was anyone's guess. Wernstecki had hardly had time to go deeply into it—even if he'd had the inclination.

  The additional degree of freedom in Trojan's motion made it necessary now to reorientate Aztec into the correct relative position before each fresh AG pulse. This meant predicting when the target portion of Trojan would move into alignment with Aztec's stern and at the same time be on a matching approach vector, which involved a tricky computation.

  "Hold on X . . . coming in on Z now, twelve . . . ten-point- three . . . nine-nine . . ." Tanya recited, watching an adjacent panel.

  "Dee-phi to five," Wernstecki directed over the link to Reese. "Reduce alpha more."

  "Two-second burn on FS2. Retro on MP4, ten percent power," Reese translated to others on the Bridge. "Fire main at ten."

  "Main drive firing, ten percent," a voice acknowledged.

  Wernstecki took in several displays. "A half on dee-theta. Steady right there. . . . Steady . . . Wait on my count. Ready on beam."

  "Ready on beam," the engineer in charge in the hold confirmed.

  "Six . . . five . . . four—it's good—three . . . two . . . one . . . Cut!"

  "Cut main," Reese ordered on the Bridge.

  "Main drive out."

  The force that had been impelling everyone rearward in their seats vanished as forward acceleration ceased, but all anyone felt was a brief nudge as the underdeck Yarbat arrays compensated. For a brief moment Aztec coasted away from Trojan in freefall.

  "Go, beam."

  "Beam on."

  This time the transient was beyond the range of the compensators. Wernstecki and the others held on for support as the invisible leash yanked Aztec back to a relative standstill.

  "Off, beam."

  "Beam off."

  "What's your reading?" Wernstecki asked Merlin Friet, who was running other calculations at a crew station in the Communications Room.

  "Axial multiplier alone should be at four-plus," he replied. It meant that anyone in the Trojan's ring modules would now be in possession of more than four times their normal body weight from just the speed-up, never mind what else the added tumbling did. Wernstecki told Reese that it should be enough to disrupt all the ship's functions for a considerable time to come.

  "Then let's hose the Hub and the drive, and get out of here," Reese said. They had already agreed that for good measure they would aim a pulse each at the region of the Trojan's spoke bases, where most of the weaponry was concentrated, and at the tail-end fusion complex—simply in the hope of inducing further dislocation and chaos for those aboard to attend to.

  Its mission accomplished, Aztec accelerated away flat-out on the fastest intercept course for Earth.

  * * *

  With no external friction to slow it down, an object set spinning in space will continue indefinitely until something acts to retard it. It took almost twelve hours for Walsh and his crew in the crazily turning and toppling Trojan to drag themselves together into a functional team and figure out a firing pattern for the maneuvering thrusters that would bring about recovery. Even then it was only partly effective, for some of the spokes had buckled, distorting the ring symmetry and introducing permanent instabilities that couldn't be corrected. The result was that life in the modules took on the feel of crossing a slowly pitching ocean, and a number of the occupants became acutely seasick. Several parts of the vessel that had suffered containment failure and were leaking into space had to be sealed off. Beyond that, the precision targeting instrumentation for the long-range weapons systems was malfunctioning and would have to be reset and recalibrated—which was neither here nor there as far as Aztec was concerned, since Aztec was long gone—and the main drive focusing system was out of alignment, which would reduce acceleration to thirty percent of normal until repairs could be effected.

  But all was not lost. Valcroix delivered a rallying speech to the entire company, reminding them that the base on Earth was held, and with the Varuna and Surya in their possession, Trojan could be restored to full battle-strength before anything to match it could be organized and reach it from Saturn. Aztec would never be allowed to pull the same stunt again. So what would it do? If it continued to Earth, it would become their prize. If it returned to Saturn, the opposition on Earth would be reduced accordingly. True, the resources aboard it would have been a valuable asset to own, but they were not essential. Trojan itself carried a full complement of conventional industrial seed equipment that had been intended to establish a pilot capability in the Jovian system. With enough will and devotion to their cause, they could still regain Earth and make themselves impregnable. Oratory and inspiring followers was Valcroix's calling. With morale revived and a new determination sharpened by adversity, Trojan set course once again.

  And then the news came in from Earth that there was no haven to be reached there after all. Zeigler's bid had ended. He and his followers were no more. It was the first anyone on the Trojan had heard of Gallian's murder and the deaths of the others there. Adreya Laelye had assumed control in the name of the government of Kronia. An hour later, a signal came in from President Urzin at Saturn. He exonerated Valcroix from direct responsibility for the crimes, since Zeigler had exceeded his orders, promising him and his followers a fair hearing if they recognized the inevitable and gave up. Meanwhile, Kronia was preparing an armed force.

  What was there to do? With its armament and propulsion system impaired, its structure damaged, leaking, and likely to undergo further failures at any time, no friendly base available for making repairs, choices were nonexistent. Before his assembled entourage, a tight-lipped Valcroix sent out a message accepting Urzin's terms and announcing that the Trojan would make its way to Earth.

  The term of the independent Terran Planetary Government was over.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  It had been a whi
le since the days when anyone with the inclination could come into the upper level of the OpComs dome to watch the shuttles from orbit come down, and to await incoming arrivals. OpComs was still there, but more restricted these days to air and orbital traffic control, which was what it had been built for in the first place. Buses from the new landing silos and service bays on the far side of what had been the pad area now delivered to the Terminal Building, erected a short distance along from the OpComs dome in front of the dorm blocks. The dorm blocks had acquired some individual rooms as well as billeting and were still used for shorter-term and temporary accommodation. However, most of the original inhabitants had moved to a residential complex outside the central work area of the base, which had separate living units as well as communal dining and recreation and offered more comfort and privacy. On the opposite side of the central area, the workshop and production facilities had grown and diversified.

  Keene stood with Vicki, Sariena, Wernstecki, and Charlie Hu, some way ahead of an expectant crowd gathered at the edge of the area in front of the Terminal Building, which with orbital traffic now farther away had become the apron for surface aircraft and local flyers. Adreya Laelye waited a few paces in front of them, facing a podium with a microphone and draped with Kronia's colors. On either side of the group, the honor guard stood in two detachments facing each other. A small procession of vehicles approached from the pads, bringing the first contingent to be shuttled down from the Kronian large-capacity interplanetary cruiser Gallian, now ten hours in Earth orbit after completing its maiden voyage from Saturn.

  The onlookers included Shayle, who had supervised the shutdown of Agni and its return to orbit to recombine with the Varuna after the permanent power plant delivered by the Aztec was assembled and brought online. Also present were Jansinick Wernstecki and Merlin Friet, currently experimenting with using AG methods to transport cut blocks now that the basic lithoforming quarries were operating; Pieter Naarmegen and Elmer Luthis from the Aztec, joint-managing Serengeti's biological research activity; Kerry Heeland, on a break from the Varuna, still involved with probe reconnaissance and surveys, along with Owen Erskine, patched up and fit again; and Beth, irrevocably stamped as a psychologist now, and Maria Sanchez, highly regarded as the medic who had dug the bullets out of Owen and stitched him up, and who had probably saved Charlie Hu's leg. Adreya had somehow contrived to look formally professional in a dark business dress and shoulder wrap to perform her last function in the capacity in which she had been acting since Zeigler's demise. This was a special occasion.

  The vehicles drew to a halt ahead of them, and the arrivals began emerging. The officers of the two guard detachments called their units to attention, then to present arms. The rank on one side was commanded by Mertak and wore the dove-gray uniforms of the recently instituted Kronian Armed Service. With its record of uncertain loyalties and inadequate internal policing, the former Security Arm had suffered too much loss of confidence and prestige, and had been disbanded. Robin had been entrusted with command—by Adreya Laelye—of the Terran part of the operation, and done a commendable job with the restructuring and reorganizing; but he had departed two weeks previously with the repaired and refitted Trojan, resuming its original mission to Jupiter. A major from the Trojan's SA complement who had refused to join the rebel faction and been incarcerated, had assumed temporary command pending the Gallian's arrival.

  The other guard detachment was composed of younger, dark-skinned members, equally crisp in their drill and smartly attired in navy-blue tunics devised for a new corps called the Auxiliary Guard. In command of them was Enka, with Rakki and Jemmo standing by to lend a native presence. The rulers of Kronia had accepted that their trust in the inherent universal goodness of human nature had been misplaced and not a little naive. As all of history had shown, elements would arise in any society which, when no other option is left, would seek to impose themselves by force, and could only be met with force. Kronia had made the mistake of thinking that since nothing existed on Earth to oppose its far-flung mission to return, there was nothing to protect against. Kronia had been very lucky.

  Keene spotted Cavan's lean form and Alicia with her blond hair among the first to appear. Cavan picked him and Vicki out at once, and even at that distance Keene could see the smile come into the pink face beneath the thinning hair, and the nod of recognition. An assortment of people in typical Kronian tunics, a few jackets and skirts, and more Armed Service uniforms came next—one of them Mylor Vorse from SOE. And then the arriving group opened up to admit to the front a robust, swarthy, silver-haired figure with vaguely Asian features, wearing a maroon robe-like garment. His eyes were as alive and alert as ever, scanning the crowd and taking in details of the base and the general surroundings even as he led the others forward. Kronians didn't need to sag under sudden, unaccustomed weight anymore—they got acclimatized using Yarbat generators well in advance. Adreya Laelye smiled as she moved forward to meet him at the podium. "Welcome to Earth," she greeted.

  "Already, I feel I've come home," Jon Foy, the first official Kronian governor, who would be taking over from her, replied.

  * * *

  There was a reception that evening in the former general mess room and cafeteria, now enhanced into being something of a social center. It was both a welcoming party for Foy and his administration, and a delayed celebration of Earth's consolidation as an extension of Kronia. For some reason, an overt display of victory and jubilation before Saturn's ascendancy was formally ratified would not have felt right. Now it seemed that everyone was making an extra effort to make good the lost time.

  Of course, there were impromptu speeches and toasts. Naarmegen proposed one to "Landen Keene, Robin Delucey, and Jansinick Wernstecki, the three people who saved Earth and the Aztec, and brought about the Pragmatist downfall." Keene objected that they couldn't have done it without Charlie Hu and Kerry Heeland, and Sariena and Shayle . . . and then added Reese, Yarbat, and others not present, finally throwing out his arms and exclaiming, "Hell, it was all of us!" which earned him cheers. Later in the evening, Adreya steered Vicki aside to learn more about the latest ideas on Earth's origins, and he finally got a chance to talk with Vorse and Foy.

  Apparently, the motion of Athena was still uncertain.

  "It's not over," Vorse told him. "We've been getting better information now that we can coordinate observations from Saturn and Earth. The period we've just been through could turn out to be the end of a lull. Athena is causing another wave of disruption among the Asteroids. Kronia could be facing more danger yet."

  "How bad?" Keene asked.

  "Nobody can say."

  Foy elaborated. "But it's not beyond the bounds of possibility that the culture we've brought into being out at Saturn could be rendered nonviable—at least, for some time. And even pulling everyone back to Earth wouldn't necessarily eliminate all the risks. Things could get bad again here too. Suppose Venus were sent into a repeating resonant pattern in the way that Emil Farzhin says happened five thousand years ago with Mars."

  It didn't come as a total surprise. That had been one of the reasons for sending the Varuna back to reconnoiter the situation on Earth, after all, and for the rush in sending the equipment that the Aztec had brought. The problems entailed in being forced to begin again on Earth should be straightforward enough to deal with compared to those of surviving in airless, lifeless space environments, and all the other things the Kronians had already learned to regard as normal. But as a first essential they would need safe refuges to retire to during periods of meteorite storms, floods, or other generally bad times. Not flimsy frameworks thrown up to maximize short-term rental returns on investment, like those that had constituted most of the cities now swept away or buried, but massive, non-corroding structures in high places, virtually embedded in and forming extensions of the earth itself.

  "We've been giving it top priority," Keene said. "Jan and his people are having a great time. They've got half a mountain out there cut into pla
y blocks. It looks like the Nursery of the Gods."

  "We saw it on the way down from orbit," Vorse said. "Very impressive. We'll be going out tomorrow to see it."

  "It was just as well that we scheduled a further consignment," Foy said.

  "Very fortunate," Keene agreed. He eyed Vorse. "Your idea, Mylor?"

  Vorse shook his head. "No, it was Jon. Always the optimist."

  "Optimism pays off," Foy told them.

  The Gallian had brought a further consignment of the latest litho-tech equipment from Titan. After its departure from Saturn, more survivors had been found in parts of Asia and both North and South America. Accordingly, more shelter construction was being planned for bases to be sited at highland locations in Tibet, Bolivia, and the Rockies. A contact party put down by a lander from the Varuna had reported that the latter group, incredibly, included individuals that Keene himself had known and had last seen leaving in the last plane out from Vandenberg, heading for the Air Force survival fortress beneath Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. Pressures of other things had so far prevented him going there personally.

  "Sariena and Charlie are working out a symbolic system to write our story in stone for posterity," Keene said. "Not dependent on any specific language. But decodable by anyone with the right knowledge."

  Foy smiled. "Why? Don't they think we'll still be here five thousand years from now?"

  Keene shrugged. "Just in case. We'd like to leave something more permanent this time."

  Then Luthis and Shayle joined them, and for a while the talk ranged from native farming projects around Serengeti to Kronian spiritual philosophy. Keene was glad that, while he wouldn't have wanted Gallian's memory forgotten, nobody stood up to start giving an obituary or calling for a memorial moment of silence. The party was going well, and such things were appropriate to other occasions.