“Don’t you feel an emotional need to be part of it?” asked Henri, somewhat aghast at her detachment.
“Oh yes. But my part was getting here and planting my lips on the earth. Navigators are known for navigating, not their admin skills. I want to do my job here in an exemplary fashion, and then explore some other part of the cosmos.”
“Are we going to Omega 16-4?” he asked.
“Yes, if we can. But our exploration will have to be fairly basic. We’ll have used most of our equipment on Ceres. I want to have a look at that in more detail when we get back to Prometheus.”
Some four hours later the returnees were entering the cabin of Lander 1. Stowed in the hold were a number of animal carcasses, including a spitting spider, a Cerippo and a Cerepig, as well as a large variety of vegetation samples, on their way for examination in the farmyard labs on Prometheus. While some members of the crew were happy to be getting back to the comforts of their personal quarters, most were sorry to be leaving the close camaraderie that had developed in and around the Orange House. As the travellers secured themselves, the atmosphere became akin to returning to school after summer camp. Stories of encounters with Ceresian wildlife began to take on embryonic embellishments that were the potential stuff of legends, and Giuliano Benedetti the cook, who remained behind, was on his way to global fame.
The spectators of the launch of Lander 1 were treated to a magnificent display of raw power rocketry out of all proportion to the puny scale and capabilities of anything left behind on the ground. As the ship lifted off and began to accelerate away, they all felt acutely aware of their vulnerability and dependence on the mother ship, and of the huge gulf between the capacity of advanced human civilisation and their own tentative foothold on planet Ceres. That this little settlement would lead to a solution of the enormously complex issues facing civilisation on Earth did not seem plausible.
26
Mayhem on Prometheus
An hour and a half later Lander 1 had docked with Prometheus and Arlette and Henri were being joined by Marcel, Chang and Julia for a debrief. As the other three were already familiar with the events that had taken place on the surface, Arlette began by talking about the current state of mind of those on the ground.
“We have a can-do pioneer spirit which I think is appropriate for this stage of the development of the settlement, but we are still in the basic adjustment phase,” she said. “We have not spoken about whether some members of the crew will remain on Ceres for the long term, nor have I given much thought to selecting who might be invited to stay – I think it is too early. The weather has been very mild so far, but we will have to substantially upgrade the structure of the base prior to the arrival of winter, and that means developing sources of local construction materials. I’ve seen the mineralogy data, so I think it is now up to you to make a resource plan. The harvesting and agricultural activities are quite satisfactory at this stage – I assume that we’ll be successful in growing staples from our own seed bank in Ceresian soil. The chicken farm is progressing nicely and Benedetti is doing wonderful things with local materials – he seems to have everybody working for him. What we need now is a set of projects with defined goals. There’s a little too much entrepreneurial activity going on. Henri?”
“The security situation is a learning curve,” said Henri. “Harvesting in woodland areas has to be conducted with extreme caution because of the spitting spiders. We operate a total black-out at night because the light attracts unwanted visitors, some of them large enough to do serious structural damage to the base. The giant scorpions and their predators haven’t shown any interest in us, but we leave no organic waste outside. The perimeter surveillance system is working OK, but our site was well chosen and we’ve seen very little interest from native species. However, we take a heavily armed escort on all expeditions with the capability of stopping elephant-sized wildlife. We don’t have any of the Wayward 19 on Ceres and we’ve detected no anti-social behaviour. How’s it been here, Chang?”
Chang seemed surprised by the question. “Very quiet,” he said. “We have no reason to believe that the vaccination programme was not completely successful. None of the Wayward 19 as you call them have stepped out of line in any way. They have been integrated back into their units and have been productive members of the crew.”
“Integrated back into their units?” Henri was uneasy.
“Yes. We know who they are and we can quickly detain them if there’s a need.”
Henri thought briefly about the sabres that Benny Tromper had made for him, and how easy it had been to manipulate Barreto with one, but he said nothing.
“Julia,” said Arlette. “How do you assess the state of mind of the crew? How much information are they getting on events on Earth?”
Julia frowned. “In an agreement between myself and Mission Control, we are receiving edited news highlights for distribution to the crew. They have, as you know, no internet access other than the ISEA database, and we have agreed that there is no merit in circulating disturbing news about events on Earth. However, we have not implemented censorship on private communications between crew members and their families and friends on Earth, so we think a lot of them are quite well informed. That could put our credibility at risk.”
“I don’t think so,” responded Arlette. “I haven’t been asked to comment on any developments on Earth, and if I am, I will refer them to you as the expert. In my view honesty is the best policy. Chang, Henri – any views?”
“Could we censor private communications if we wanted to?” queried Chang.
“Absolutely,” replied Julia. “We control the comms server. People would notice, of course. It would be a very crude instrument. I wouldn’t want to use it unless there was something dire going on that would undermine the ability of the crew to function. Henri?”
“I agree that censorship would be a mistake,” said Henri. “Everybody on this mission is here because they wanted to be part of a new start for humanity rather than trying to influence things on Earth. What we have of real value is our unity of purpose. We don’t want the crew starting to mistrust the leadership. You remember how anxious we were about the Armenian episode? Feelings were undoubtedly high but loyalty to the mission came through unscathed. We have a lot behind us now to enhance that.”
“OK with that, Marcel?” asked Julia.
“Absolutely,” he replied. “The worse the news from Earth, the greater the relevance of what we are doing here. We need to have our noses in the dirt every hour of the day to ensure our survival. From what I have seen and heard, nobody disagrees with that.”
“Alright. Is the next landing party good to go?”
“We’ve had a minor change,” said Marcel. “Genes Clayton has decided to send one of his engineers rather than go himself. I’m a bit surprised but he says he has some concerns about the propulsion unit that he’d like to get resolved. He’s hoping to be in the next party.”
“A pity,” said Arlette thoughtfully. “He’s a very creative thinker and he’d be useful down there. Still, we can’t afford to have any uncertainties about the power unit so I suppose it will have to be next time around.”
Lander 2, the second of the booster-assisted shuttles that had piggy-backed Prometheus since the commencement of the mission, closed its airlock and cast off from the mother ship less than an hour later. Almost everyone on Prometheus watched the manoeuvre, listened to the countdown as she took up position alongside, and saw the flash of the engines before she shrank rapidly into the distance and dipped down towards Ceres.
Arlette returned to her quarters, deep in thought, with Henri beside her. She ushered him into her office. “You look worried,” she said.
“I’ll be a lot happier once I have the Wayward 19 under direct supervision,” said Henri.
“OK, I understand, but will you please hang around for a few minutes while I talk to Genes. I want to hear from him about the problems we have with the propulsion unit.”
“Sure,” said Henri.
Genes Clayton arrived ten minutes later. He stood in the open doorway, a big smile on his face. “Welcome back, Commander. I can see that the bucolic way of life suits you!” As he stepped forward he produced a sword from behind his back and levelled it at Henri, just as four armed and masked men appeared behind him.
“Pandora!” he yelled.
A short volley of fire ripped across Henri’s chest. He slumped on top of Arlette, forcing her to the floor. “Calling Julia!” he whispered in her ear as he covered her body with his.
“Hold!” said Genes sharply, pushing the motionless body of Henri off Arlette with his foot. He bent over her to rip off her earphone, but she bit savagely into his wrist and fought back until she was overpowered.
“Bind her, gag her and restrain her in the bathroom!” he ordered.
* * *
Julia was talking to Hannah Cohen when Henri’s CTT call came through. She stiffened and rose to her feet. “Yes,” she mouthed, then, “Hannah, we have a crisis. Genes Clayton is the terrorist leader. He has the Commander a prisoner in her quarters. Henri is badly hurt; he may be dying.”
Hannah stared at her, trying to process this input, but Julia was already on her earphone to Chuck Connolly. His instructions to her were clear and immediate.
“Hannah, where will we be secure until Chuck gets here?” Julia asked. Hannah grabbed her hand and they sprinted along the corridor to one of the secure rooms used for psychiatric detentions. A few minutes later Chuck arrived with four militiamen. “Come,” was all he said.
Their route back to the defence platform took a path completely unknown to Julia, and had obviously been created for the specific purpose of moving the military around Prometheus clandestinely. She made this comment to Chuck Connolly and he gave her a wry smile. “Colonel Bertin knows what he’s at,” was all he said.
Kropnik was at the security hatch as they emerged into the defence platform. “They’re on the move,” he said grimly as they hurried to the control centre.
“What do you know about Henri?” shot back Julia.
“The shots that took him down were not fatal. He was wearing bulletproof protection and nobody bothered to take off his earphone right away, so we know what happened. But we’ve lost the earphone and the video surveillance now.”
The location of each of the Wayward 19 was shown as an orange dot on the three-dimensional map of the spaceship. They were formed into four groups, obviously now fully coordinated. “How come you can see where they are?” asked Julia, obviously relieved.
“The doctors gave them each a little present when they were being vaccinated,” was the reply.
Their smiles faded as the familiar drawl of Genes Clayton came over the public address system.
“Crew members of IP262, this is Commander Clayton,” he said. “There has been a change in the leadership of our mission. Commander Piccard has stepped down and Colonel Bertin has lost his life resisting arrest. I am now in command. All crew members are to return to their quarters immediately at this time and await instructions. Our militia is wearing orange armbands. You must follow their instructions or the consequences may be severe. Further announcements will follow in due course.”
A few moments later a call came through to the defence platform control centre. The statement from Genes Clayton was as follows: “You will lay down your arms and surrender to my militia immediately. Failure to do so will result in the execution of Commander Piccard and random members of the crew that I will select. Their deaths will be entirely your responsibility and will continue until you comply.” He did not wait for a response.
Julia, Hannah and the two soldiers sat and faced each other around a square table.
“OK, we have a hostage crisis and we are dealing with known killers,” began Julia. “Rules one, two and three are negotiate, negotiate and negotiate. We have a defined leader whose motives and objectives we don’t know. We have to explore those to make any progress. What are our military options?”
“We have a surviving military contingent of twenty-six, of which ten are currently on Ceres,” said Chuck. “Numerically then we are at a slight disadvantage. But we know where our enemies are and they will find out pretty quickly that our men are not to be found. They will have to assume that we are all in the defence platform.”
“In fact that is not the case,” put in Kropnik. “We have an advantage in that we can move around outside the inner shell, and between the floors, to most parts of the ship undetected, we have sighting holes our snipers can use, and we have arms caches in strategic locations.”
“Yes,” added Chuck. “They are vulnerable to our ambush capability while they remain in groups of four or five as they are now.”
Julia supressed the elation she felt at Henri’s foresight. “Shouldn’t we assume that they will start murdering people as soon as we start shooting?” she asked.
“I think so, yes,” said Chuck. “We must have the time to be as well positioned as possible before we strike in order to minimise collateral casualties, but we will have to shoot to kill. Given what we know of their fanatical behaviour, there is no credible scenario for disarming them.”
Julia glanced at Hannah, who sat, stony-faced, beside her. Hannah looked her sternly in the eyes and, almost imperceptibly, nodded.
Julia stared at the table. “This could cost the lives of both the Commander and Colonel Bertin,” she said to no one in particular.
“I promise you that our first shots will take out the guards in the Commander’s quarters,” said Chuck solemnly.
“You have spyholes into her quarters!?”
“Absolutely. We have three men above the ceiling… – he turned to look at the control screen – “… there now. It was our number one priority. And I can confirm that Colonel Bertin is alive, if not entirely well.”
“Right!” said Julia. “How much time do you need to get into optimum position?”
“Thirty minutes,” said Chuck.
“Good. Get going.”
Julia picked up a pad of paper and began to scribble notes on it. She turned to Hannah. “We have to wait,” she said. “We can’t contact him. We haven’t acknowledged receipt of his ultimatum. He has to call again.” She went on with her notes. Hannah bit her lip and fidgeted.
When the phone went they both jumped. “This is Julia Rogers.”
“You have five minutes to disarm the door and surrender,” said Genes.
“I can be helpful if you could explain to me what you are trying to achieve.”
“The only help I require is that you disarm the door and save me the trouble of using explosives to do it.”
“Well, I would hardly do that without some assurance about the safety of the rest of the crew. Just tell me what you want to achieve.”
There was silence, then “Four minutes,” said Genes and the line went dead.
With just half a minute of his ultimatum to spare, the phone went again.
“Are you ready to surrender now?” asked Genes, in a voice somewhat more tense than his usual mellifluous tone.
“We can talk about the terms of surrender once you have told me what you want to achieve. Until you do that I have no incentive whatsoever to cooperate with you. I might as well wait for you to blow open the door and kill me.”
“There are no terms of surrender. It’s unconditional,” shot back Genes.
“In that case, there is no surrender,” said Julia calmly and put the phone down.
She turned to Jesse Mobutu, the sole remaining soldier in the defence platform. “Why would he hesitate to blow up the door?” she asked him.
“Because he probably knows that I will blow away anyone who comes within ten metres of it,” he said with a grin, pointing at a sniper’s port in the middle of the door.
“Could he have any heavier weapons, anti-tank missiles for instance?”
“Not likely,” said Jesse. “We have control of the armoury. Nothing has gone.”
/> “But he does have explosives. We know that from the control centre attack.”
“Yes, and automatic weapons, probably all stolen by Brady before the attack, but nothing else.”
“OK,” said Julia. “Keep a sharp eye open for any activity out there.”
She sat back in her chair and snapped her fingers. The deadline came and went. Nothing on the screen indicated any change in the position of the four hostile groups.
The phone went again. “I have explosives in place. Are you ready to talk?” It was a change in position and a trace of a smile crossed Julia’s face.
“Yes, I’m ready to discuss terms. Please tell me what your objectives are.”
“We are not discussing my objectives, we are discussing surrender!” yelled Genes.
“OK,” she said quietly. “What happens to Piccard and Bertin when we surrender?”
“They… Bertin’s dead, I told you!”
“Alright. In that case, please bring his body and place it in front of the door of the defence platform.”
“No, I will not! You are wasting my time!” shouted Genes, but he stayed on the line.
“Actually, Genes, you are the one who is wasting time,” said Julia. “I have just asked you a simple question about what you want to achieve, and for no apparent reason you have given me no answer. How can you expect me to comply with an absolutely no-win proposal from your side?”
“Bitch!”
Hannah and Julia broke into broad smiles.
“OK. Well?”
There was an inaudible but palpable sigh at the other end of the line.
Omnipotence: Book I: Odyssey Page 21