Finch had been an up and coming archaeologist on GolRoth at the time. He had worked as an historian specialising in metallurgy and its implications for culture, and he’d been the scapegoat EarthGov had sacrificed to appease the Sumerians.
It had been no more than a slap on the wrist and a quiet word to find another job, but it had ruined that particular career for him. And it had cost him Jenna. Now there was a woman worth keeping on the right side of.
She had refused to speak to him after his dismissal, even when she understood it had been a set up. The cost to her career of being associated with him had been too much.
Finch sighed. He couldn’t really blame her for that.
The sounds reverberating around the freighter brought him back to the present moment. The ship must be coming into Earth orbit. There was a long deceleration and then an eerie silence, followed by clunks and thuds as the shuttles unloaded huge containers from the cargo bays. He stood up. He should probably get himself ready to leave.
Cordez’ South Am offices surprised him. Finch looked up at the small three-story building and thought how peaceful it looked. It was surrounded by parkland, with other small buildings scattered about the area. The parkland was on the edge of a more ordered business area of rectangular streets and one-story buildings. Workers taking a break were strolling across the grass, or chatting in the shaded areas.
It appeared that Cordez, sorry, Regent Cordez to you, Finch, he muttered to himself, wasn’t taken with ostentatious outer appearances. His minder indicated the large, open arch at the front of the building, and waved him toward it while returning the small vertical lift aircraft to its underground hanger. Cordez’ office was on the ground floor.
“Come in, Mr Engle, or should that be mining boss Engle?” said Cordez with a smile. He leaned across his desk and they shook hands.
“No, Florenchantaine Engle will get my attention every time,” said Finch, impressed with the easy grace of the man despite his own misgivings.
“Pity you got fired over the GolRoth scandal,” said Cordez. “It was a set up of course.”
Finch didn’t know quite what to say.
“EarthGov can be like that, sacrificing a few of their own people for the ‘greater good’. The nature of politics I suppose.”
He looked at Finch. “It’s different here in the trading blocks,” he said quietly. “We look after our own.”
Cordez paused, and seemed to be waiting for a reply.
“Ah, yes, we’re treated well at the mining site,” said Finch cautiously. Cordez got up and walked over to the window. He beckoned Finch to join him.
“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” said Cordez, as he looked out at the people enjoying the day.
“Yes it is,” said Finch, with genuine feeling. It was an idyllic picture of peaceful lives.
“I want you to understand that I never forget what others are doing so that this may continue on Earth,” said Cordez.
“All our employees in the harsher environments around the Spiral Arm are well paid, of course, but we don’t sacrifice one of our own because it might be ‘convenient’ at the time.”
Before Finch had thought of a reply, Cordez beckoned him back to his desk. When they were seated again, he changed the topic.
“I believe you had a visitor at the mining site six months ago,” he said, with the hint of a smile.
Finch sat up. What was this all about.
“You covered it up very nicely. If it hadn’t been for the higher output from the reactor and the lower productivity, and some cute wording in the report, I might almost have let it pass.”
My God, he knows, thought Finch. For a brief moment he saw the Regent as a spider at the centre of a vast web that spread throughout the Spiral Arm, sifting information, collating data.
“Don’t look so surprised,” said Cordez with a smile. “If my information serves me correctly, the Druanii will have sworn you to secrecy, or something like that. Am I correct?”
Finch nodded slowly, unsure how much to reveal.
“So, let me take that burden off your shoulders. There have been a number of incidents like the one at the mining site since we’ve spread out among the stars. I’ve followed up a few of them in my time in office, and managed to get the stories from the people involved – under an oath of silence.
“I am offering you the same deal now. I already know about the Druanii, and I intend to keep their secrets. If you tell me the full story you won’t be breaking your obligations to them.”
Finch considered this. Then he shook his head. He liked what he saw of the man, but he didn’t like to do deals with any sort of authority. Not after the way he’d been ditched from the GolRoth job.
Despite the high-sounding speeches, this man was still someone with a lot of control over the lives of others, and the temptation to use it to his own advantage.
Cordez shrugged. “In that case let us put the Druanii incident behind us. It never happened.”
He looked at Finch for a moment, and then smiled.
“I want you to come and work for me.”
“I thought I was working for you,” said Finch, a little puzzled.
“No, you don’t understand. I want you to work for me personally.
“I want you to go where I send you, and do what I ask you to do – as long as you see no harm to others in it – and all the time keep your eyes open and your mouth shut, and report back to me. The work will generally be lawful, but the fine line of the law can get a bit unclear at times.
“First up you’ll be in charge of the construction division at a new project of mine, and you can bring your team at the mining site on board with you. You’ll all be well paid.”
Another change of topic. Trying to keep up with the Regent was enough to make you run on the spot just to stay in one place.
“I don’t have enough experience to maintain standards across all facilities for today’s construction methods,” said Finch. “Besides, what sort of construction did you have in mind, I’m not . . .”
“You will have people to do that for you,” cut in the Regent. “Your job will involve being my eyes and ears, and talking to the engineers, and generally smoothing the way. I want you to be involved in everything. You will have the power to pull the plug on anything you don’t like, but you will clear it with me first. Got that?”
Finch got it, he well and truly got it. He had to stop himself leaping to attention and saluting while he said ‘Sir, yes Sir, got it, Sir.’ Cordez was an absolute dynamo when he wanted to make a point.
“I’m in,” said Finch, after a moment’s thought, “but I want to know what it is I’ll be working on. I want to know everything, and I want to know it now.”
“Good to hear you’re in the team,” said Cordez, leaning back in his chair. “I can tell you I’m very pleased to have you on board, Mr Engle. Are you sure you want to go over the details right now? We’ve covered a lot of ground already today.”
“Yes,” said Finch with determination. He would trust this man later. Right now he wanted to see exactly what was in store for him.
Cordez pulled out a series of architect’s impressions from a folder on his desk.
“This is what your old mining base is about to become,” he said, and passed them over.
Finch took the drawings. Dammit, look at that, he said to himself in amazement. The opencast mine was all but covered over, and huge factories spilled out onto the surface of the moon on three sides, with a launch site on the other.
The whole operation looked enormous. In small letters at the bottom were the words ‘Prometheus Project’.
“Why the name?” he asked Cordez.
“Prometheus?” said Cordez. “Brought fire to man, stole it from the gods, and that’s what we’ll have to do to beat the Reaper ships. Prometheus was supposed to have taught man a number of useful skills, and I’m hoping between the Mersa and ourselves, with a leavening of Druanii maybe in the mix, we will learn some more skills.
” He paused, then passed more drawings to Finch.
“These are the zero gravity production facilities that will be positioned a little further out in Neptune’s orbit.
“Mining, and refining the ore, will continue underground, and the proceeds will be delivered directly to the factories you see in the plans. There will also be material delivered from the asteroid belt.
“As you know, the centre of South Am off-world mining has moved to the asteroid belt over the last few years. Improved technology allows us to micromine small mineral deposits more profitably.”
Finch nodded. He was awestruck at the size and scale of the zerogee facilities, and the plans for the underground mining. Cordez obviously intended to build a whole lot of something, but what?
“Ah, what do you want all this production capacity for?” he asked.
“Starships, Mr Engle,” said Cordez. “Starships that will take the fight to the Reaper ships. Call them destroyers, call them battleships, call them what you like. In fact that name will be one of your first decisions as my liaison at the production centre.”
Finch stopped dead. He slowly put down the architect’s plan he was holding.
“We don’t have a chance against those things. I’ve read the reports. No matter how you dress it up they’re way ahead of us, or the Sumerians, in any sort of arms race.”
“You will have to put a more positive face on it, Florenchantaine,” said Cordez. “Hell, it’s Finch isn’t it? If you keep going forward when you have no idea what you’re doing, you’ll achieve a lot more than if you sit on your behind and do nothing. I’m right, aren’t I? You know how important your attitude will be at the production centre.”
Finch nodded. He was going to have to lead, really lead. People were going to have to believe in him, and Cordez, until they saw the results for themselves. He wasn’t sure he was ready for this, but if he did nothing, Earth was that much more likely to fall.
Cordez nodded. He saw the moment Finch worked that out for himself.
CHAPTER 15
________________
“And we do have a chance against the Reaper ships,” continued Cordez, “two chances actually. The first one will come as a surprise to you.”
Finch’s face changed as the Regent outlined his plans for an alliance with the Mersa people. He was even more surprised to learn Cordez had already sent an operative to Alamos, and was preparing a mission to take things further.
“The Mersa think differently to the way we do, and I’m hoping we can harness that creativity. They’re ahead of us in some of our research areas, despite being planet-bound. All we need for an alliance with them to bear fruit is time. I hope you’re a praying man, Finch – you can pray the Reaper ships will leave Earth alone for a while.
“The second wild card in the mix is the Druanii, the people you and I have never heard of,” said the Regent, smiling. “I don’t know how we will contact them, but I’m betting we won’t need to. They’re going to contact us.”
Finch’s eyebrows shot up in a decidedly questioning look.
“Think about it, man,” said Cordez. “The Rothii, the Druanii, the Reaper ships, all much more advanced than us, and almost certainly been around a lot longer than us. They have to know about each other. I would bet you whatever you like that we’ve stumbled into a nest of old enemies, and old alliances.
“Look at the behaviour of the Reaper ships. Do you see anything more civilised, more mature, than what we have on Earth?
“No, brute force still rules with them, sad to say. Politics in their circles will still involve balances of power.” He paused reflectively.
“Anyway, enough of that,” he said. “Take the drawings with you, they are only copies, but remember they’re for your eyes only. And one last thing.”
Finch looked up.
“I call you Finch, you call me Cordez, agreed?”
“Uh, yeah, agreed.”
“Good man. See you here again at 10am tomorrow. Go and get some rest, and sleep in if you need some time to adjust. I want you fresh and on your game.”
Finch nodded. The Regent was okay, sorry, Cordez was okay. He was looking like the sort of leader Finch could work for.
The next day he was introduced to the mountain of logistics that would be involved with the changes at his old mining site. It was going to be a huge operation.
He wasn’t surprised to learn the first shipments of materials, and the construction crews to assemble them, were already on their way to Neptune.
Later that day he decided to contact his mining crew on Proteus. The look on Bosun’s face when he told him a massive construction fleet was bearing down on him, and would be there in a few days, was priceless. Questions and answers were 12 minutes apart at that distance, but his old team were buzzing by the time the meeting was over.
Of course he couldn’t tell his friends everything, not yet. Certainly not what Prometheus would finally become, and what it would produce. Let the rumours fly around that South Am had a deal with EarthGov to produce ships of war, let the people believe whatever they wanted to believe.
My God, he thought suddenly, this was going to be the biggest job of his life. It still hadn’t really sunk in when Cordez sent him back to Prometheus two weeks later, but the changes that had already occurred at the old opencast mine stunned him.
Finch looked down at the furious activity on the surface of Proteus from Cordez’ private liner, with Cordez’ best pilot at the helm. It was a spectacular panorama of industrial efficiency. Already the mine and the old control centre were barely recognisable.
He had left the mining site as a bit of extra ballast in a cargo ship, and come back in his own private ship. Well, Cordez’ actually, but his to use at the moment.
He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “Can you make any sense of this, Geelong?”
The dark-skinned aborigine looked up from the navigator’s chair.
“Standard disbursement pattern,” said the pilot. “Self-propelled dorm units have landed and are now joining up. Catering, waste and atmosphere went in before them.” He paused for a moment.
“Look directly below you,” he said.
Finch panned the view down and under the ship.
“See where manufacturing have already dug in, and are makinging panels for the production factories?” he said. Finch grunted.
There was nothing there, at least nothing Finch could see. Just a few mushroom caps that made communication possible and acted as safety vents, and a series of airlocks in the side of the opencast mine.
“Look over at two o’clock on the horizon,” said Geelong, and Finch did as he was told.
“See the foundations for the factories?” said the pilot. Finch nodded. Five smooth pads, each the size of a spaceport, dotted the far side of the site.
“Each factory sits on a single base. The surface rubble is covered with oxide, reduced to a molten slag, and left to harden. Impervious to moonquakes.”
Finch turned his gaze outward. There were ships lined up in orbit and a steady stream of shuttles landing and lifting off. Further over the more robust of the cargo ships were landing directly on the surface, and disgorging large containers from all four bays at once.
What struck Finch was the size of the workforce that must be down there. Even allowing for the bulk of the work being automated, there was still a lot of detail that would require Human attention.
The control centre was still going to be used, though it was being expanded and modernised. His mining team were excited about the changes, and more than happy to see their boss promoted to oversee it all. Finch was touched by their enthusiasm for the whole project.
His team were working twelve-hour shifts integrating the new systems into the existing controls. He wished he was down there helping them. He knew he was getting fidgety because he wasn’t at the centre of it all – he recognised the signs.
Four weeks later, Finch was present at the first board meeting of the new South Am production sh
ipyard in Neptune orbit, codenamed the Prometheus project. As expected, every department had a list of problems as long as your arm for him to look at. Finch listened carefully, and made an effort to relate personally to each department head. Then he reported back to Cordez.
Several months after that, everything was working smoothly, and Finch had the trust of the department heads. It had not been an easy transition for any of them. Every time he walked into a room his staff would noticeably stiffen.
Finch was Cordez’ man, so what Finch said went. At least that was what the people on the base believed, although it was not entirely true. Finch didn’t correct them. The staff didn’t need to know he couldn’t make an order, or rescind one, without checking with Cordez first.
Cordez kept him up to date, and spoke freely about the projects he had underway. Finch had wanted to be in on the first mission to the people of Alamos, when he heard about it, but Cordez had wanted him at Prometheus.
The Mersa had been delighted to find they were no longer alone in the universe, but their haphazard form of government meant it had taken longer than expected to get the first shipment of Mersa scientists to Prometheus. Then came the day Finch had to call the heads of department together for a very special meeting.
“You’ve been told we will be making Earth’s first battleships of the skies,” he said, when they were all settled, “and selling them to EarthGov to use against the Reaper ship threat.
“That’s not true,” he said, and waited for the buzz of comments to die down. “The Board of Regents wants to build a fleet of star drive ships, pack it full of the latest energy weapons and fusion torpedoes, and send it up against the Reaper ships, but Cordez doesn’t want to do that.”
Finch paused for a moment. “And why doesn’t Cordez want to do that?” he asked.
“The Reaper ships would blow us out of the sky,” growled MacEwart, head of armaments.
“Thank you, John. Yes, you’ve all seen the media reports. It’s clear the Reaper ships are bigger, better protected, and more powerful than anything we’ve got. Stygian hells, they were probably flying between the stars when my ancestor was trying to sneak into your ancestor’s cave to steal his wife!”
Invardii Series Boxset Page 27