“How does that help us help Earth?” Kellen asked.
“We just have to trust in First,” Abby said. “It created the Four and left us a way to get here if we ever needed help. Whatever the orbital will do, I can’t imagine First would have gone to such lengths only to let Earth die.”
“I hope you’re right,” Kellen said.
A moving walkway whisked them out of the concourse, through the disc, and out onto a dock. Kellen gaped. To be suddenly in space surrounded by stars made him pause despite their danger. New chine designs, docking ships, and other shapes he couldn’t discern competed for his attention.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Abby said.
“There’s no time for astronomic whimsy,” Chronicler said.
They followed Kinetic out past docked ships. The feeling of weight had disappeared. Chines floated by, tending the ships they passed. There’s no gravity in space, Kellen reminded himself. Something kept them attached to the dock, but he had no time to ponder it. A small ship waited, not much longer than the fliers they’d used inside the city. The ship unfolded. Chronicler and Abby entered its cramped interior. Kellen felt the stirrings of claustrophobia, but swallowed his fear and stepped inside. The ship shut around them and accelerated, pinning him against a bulkhead. At first, all was dark, then the ship’s vision became his. He could see the stars again, as if the ship were made of glass, as if he were the ship.
The stars snapped around as the ship dumped velocity and reoriented with a gut-wrenching jolt. It hurtled along one helical route, then another, slamming into new trajectories.
“Why are we traveling like this?” Kellen asked through gritted teeth.
“This ship is designed for stealth, but we could still be targeted or tracked,” Kinetic said.
“Are we safe now?” Abby asked later.
“They can’t see us directly,” Chronicler said. “But they can make predictions. We have to keep them guessing as to our destination. The more we can mislead them, the more time we’ll have before they arrive.”
Kellen didn’t like the sound of that.
“How long until we get there?” Abby asked.
“Twelve hours thirty-six minutes,” the ship said. “Unless additional diversionary tactics become necessary.”
Kellen lost all track of time as the ship rocketed along its erratic course. The zig-zagging stars became a soup of smeared light. He shut off the ship’s visual feed and fell into a half-sleep.
Abby called his name, and Kellen jerked awake.
Something obstructed his view of the stars. Like a shield, a vast, convex surface of tesselated triangles shone brilliant with reflected light, their ship an insignificant speck against those immaculate sail-like shapes.
“This is one of the Array’s six orbital condensers,” Chronicler said. “This particular one collects microwave energy from a field of solar arrays orbiting star four, then transmits a condensed beam to the city. The forty triangles are microwave receivers.”
They came over the shield’s edge. Nestled inside its concavity, a flattened, coin-like cylinder bore a needle oriented into space. The needle glittered, a hexagonal pattern honeycombing its surface.
“The cylinder is where the energy flux is combined and transmitted through that antenna to the city.”
Kellen tried to sight along the antenna and thought he saw something glimmer there. “So this is just a really big battery?”
“Not exactly, not as you think of it. Its purpose is to collect, condense, and redirect energy, not to store it for long periods. It would be analogous to a capacitor.”
“So it’s…a battery?” Kellen asked Abby.
“Pretty much,” she said. “The biggest battery ever, and it shoots enough microwaves to power the entire city.”
“Not quite,” Chronicler said. “This is just one of six orbital condensers.”
“How do we get in?” Abby asked.
“There should be access bays,” Chronicler said. “There’s one.”
The ship closed its distance to the orbital, following a tube from the nearest triangular receiver toward where it intersected the cylinder’s rim. At the point of intersection, the tube passed into the cylinder through an oval-shaped opening. The oval became larger and larger until it engulfed them. The ship descended into an artificial canyon lit by a ghostly red light. It followed the tube further in. Kellen felt a jolt as the ship came to a stop, then it unfolded.
“Careful.” Kinetic descended the ship’s ramp. “There’s no gravity here. Keep in contact with a surface at all times. If you have to relinquish contact, always move to something.”
Everyone followed at a slower pace.
Kellen’s feet adhered to the metal surface below the ship. He put down a hand. It stuck as well, but came free without much effort.
“Magnetic,” Abby said. “Must be automatic. Just like the dock back in the city.”
Through his feet, Kellen felt a faint but steady vibration. He could barely see the small patch of stars above. The red foundry light seeped up past them, dimly illuminating the enormous construct into which they’d trespassed.
A faint buzz of electrical discharge washed over them.
Kellen jumped. “What is that?”
“The orbital must generate an electric field,” Abby said. “It might be stray voltage.”
Their ship had landed on the round, flat top of a tower. Kellen guessed it must be thirty or more meters across. In its center, the tube they’d followed merged with the tower’s top. A few panels were set into the tube just above its junction with the tower.
Kellen and Abby walked to the edge. The tower itself was composed of sandwiched, meter-thick plates of metal alternating with what appeared to be glass. Identical towers stood on either side, and more beyond, all radiating from a central hub far below. Parallel strips of metal lined the tower’s gently curved sides, some vertical or diagonal. All had chine tracks etched along their center lines.
Kellen crouched down by the nearest chine track. The strip was several centimeters thick and a couple meters wide.
“We’re inside the cylinder we saw on our approach,” Chronicler said. “Each of these capacitor towers radiates outward from the hub and is connected to the triangular receivers. Energy runs through each power conduit.” It pointed to the tube. “Into the tower’s capacitor bank, these stacked discs, then down into the hub. The hub must house a condenser mechanism to power the antenna and transmit energy to the city.”
Kellen looked down at the hub. The red light emanated from somewhere down there, but he could not see its source. The electrical buzz began to diminish. Kellen wondered if it might be important, but no one mentioned it.
Abby faced the others. “What now?”
“Central Control said we should activate the orbital,” Kellen said. “But how? Where? This place is enormous.”
“Putting the trigger mechanism inside a functioning orbital condenser makes sense,” Chronicler said. “First had to keep it secret, and there’s more than enough power. But where would First have installed it?”
Abby pointed to one of the panels. “Wish I still had my tool arm. I could try to patch into whatever monitoring system this thing uses. I think the trigger must be deep inside, somewhere hard to get to, where no one was intended to go. We need to get into the machinery itself. That’s where I would hide it.” She pointed down toward the hub. “Where everything comes together.”
“I think you’re right,” Chronicler said. “The orbital won’t communicate with me. Either it wasn’t designed to or the Precautionists have locked access. I can’t retrieve any schematics. We’ve got to explore. Look for anything out of place, anything without an obvious function.”
Kellen laughed. “Nothing I see has an obvious function.”
“Then you’re lucky a Lighter like me is with you,” Abby said, grinning.
Kinetic dropped over the tower’s edge, and Kellen watched as it walked down the tower along one of the metal strip
s. After going a short distance, it turned to wait for them.
Using its manipulators, Chronicler levered itself out over the surface. Its wheels retracted, only to emerge reconfigured as gears that fit neatly into the chine track.
Kellen had to remind himself there was no down here. He could fall up just as easily. He placed a hand on the strip, willing it to stick. He clambered over the edge and down, then paused. Abby peeked over the edge as if she’d expected him to fall. They both laughed, and Kellen stood up, the tower’s side his new horizontal. Abby joined him.
“Shall we proceed?” Chronicler asked.
They walked down the tower, Kinetic in the lead. They moved along that track, then on a diagonal, always further down toward the hub below. The electrical buzz returned. It seemed to be repeating.
Chronicler halted. “Did you feel that?”
“The buzz?” Kellen asked.
“No, something else.”
Abby shook her head.
“No,” Kellen said.
They resumed their descent.
Minutes later, Kellen felt a faint tremor.
Kinetic stopped. Its sensor cluster oriented at a small shape down and to their right on a parallel track. A metal millipede scurried away, its metal segments undulating as it fled.
“It reminds me of those insect-like chines,” Abby said. “When we first arrived in the City of the Six Suns.”
He hoped she was right. Those chines had been no threat to them.
“A necrophage, probably,” Kinetic said. “Conducting minor maintenance and recycling debris.”
“Do the Precautionists control them?” Kellen asked.
“They may.”
They passed the tower’s midpoint, and Kinetic stopped again, sensors scanning.
Kellen and Abby looked about for the source of its interest.
She pointed. “There!”
A cloud of small flying chines hovered in the space between their tower and the next. No bigger than Kellen’s hand, each sported a fan-like tail and a folded, origami-like torso.
“Scouts,” Kinetic said.
Something much larger surged around the opposite tower. A great, amorphous beast of a chine. It advanced with a terrible rapidity, hurling itself forward on elongating legs of braided metal. Each limb was threaded through with light tracing back to a headless torso. No sensor cluster was visible, just a gaping maw lit from within as if it had swallowed a sun. The chine halted, swaying. Its twin appeared further down, blocking their descent.
“Melters!” Chronicler shouted.
The melters launched themselves across the gap.
Chapter 32 – Revelation
Nothing like dropping into a combat zone to get people moving, Sheemi mused while getting out of her suit. She did her best to shrug off the usual post-IFD headache and hurried out of the bus to help complete pre-flight checks. The engines activated, sending vibrations through the soles of her feet. She finished checking couplings and returned to the bus. There would be none of the usual rec period, no time to rest. Somewhere, Hexi targeting systems were coming alive.
The dead came to mind now that they might soon join them. She counted them out. Eight gone. That left twelve soldiers, two scientists, one tech, and a crazy chine cultist. Just two-thirds of those who’d started out to finish the job.
“The chines’ ephemeris checks out, sir,” Janik said. “Four planets. One Jupiter-class; two hot, inner metallics; and an Earth-type.”
“That’s our target,” Alvares said.
Seconds went by without further discussion until Alvares broke the silence. “Sir?”
“What’s our attack profile?” Ciib asked.
“Point-two AU to attack point,” Alvares replied. “Eight hours high-g, two at zero, eight high. ETA eighteen hours.”
“Forward to v-max,” Ciib said.
The g pushed Sheemi back in the couch. She succumbed to it, letting her thoughts flow. She declined the virt. No drugs had been authorized. Ciib needed everyone awake and alert. She wouldn’t want to die drugged, anyway.
An hour ticked by, then another. Time and a growing dread eroded her adrenaline high. Just pre-combat jitters. She pushed aside stray thoughts. Now is no time to doubt yourself. She wished she could talk to someone—Xin, or better, Neecie. Neecie would understand.
At a certain point, the ship shook with a staccato banging, as if someone beat on the hull with a sledgehammer.
“We’re under attack,” Alvares said. “Those sounds are the chine defensive batteries firing interceptors. If any miss...”
“They won’t,” Ciib said.
The ship shook as if it might break into a million pieces. At a certain point, the vibrations began to diminish until Sheemi felt only the occasional detonation. They’d passed through the Hexi barrage unscathed. Not long after, the g’s fell back to normal as they attained target velocity.
Sheemi imagined Dauntless flying fast across orbits, closing on an alien sun. The Hexi homeworld lay somewhere ahead, the planet that had given birth to a race of murderers. A need for vengeance was no excuse for what the Hexi had done. Even mothers had to be accountable if they brought evil into the world. She touched her belly.
The all-clear tone sounded.
“Disregard that,” Ciib said. “Everyone stay put. Prepare for deceleration and course correction.”
Sheemi checked the time. They weren’t due to decelerate yet. And why a course correction?
“All crew to Command,” Alvares said. “Assemble in Command in five.”
“What’s going on?” Sheemi asked Jerrold as they squeezed into the already-crowded Command module.
“Don’t know,” he whispered, “but it can’t be good.”
Captain Ciib and Alvares looked tense.
“Doesn’t matter if you turn this into a circus, Alvares,” Ciib said. “You have your orders. Change course back to the Array.”
“I can’t do that, sir. We’ve got a mission to complete.”
“You don’t have a choice. I give the orders, and I’ve decided we’re not going to wipe out an entire planet full of innocent civilians. For the last time, reverse course.”
“No.” Alvares licked his lips. “It’s my duty to disregard an unlawful order. We’ve got to end this war, give the Hexi a blow they’ll never forget. It’s the only way.”
Sheemi never guessed it would come to this. Her scalp prickled and her gut recoiled at the idea of disobeying Ciib. He’d only ever led them well, and he’d been good to her. And now she stood witness to mutiny.
“He’s right, Mark,” Omeri said. “I know your heart is in the right place, but we’re past guilt and innocence.”
“It’s not too late.” Xin turned to look at everyone in turn, her pleading eyes entreating them to listen. “We can change our minds.”
“The chines have given us a gift,” Meszaros said. “We cannot refuse it. We must act now.”
“Lieutenant Janik, change our course,” Ciib said.
Janik looked up from the nav console. She glanced at Alvares, who shook his head. “Can’t do that, sir.”
“First Sergeant,” Ciib said, voice cool but with anger beneath the surface. “Captain Alvares and Lieutenant Janik are relieved. Take them to the bus and hold them there.”
Mertik stood up. The crew parted to let him through.
“Don’t interfere, Mertik.” Alvares raised his voice. “The captain has abdicated his duty. I’m assuming command.”
“Like hell you are,” Mertik said. “You need to come with me, sir. Along with Lieutenant Janik.”
Alvares nodded to someone standing nearby, but Sheemi couldn’t tell who. Everything was going haywire. Why was Ciib doing this? Why was he twisting her reality even more than it had already been twisted? First Gavin and Xin, now him. She didn’t know how much more she could endure. People kept turning away from what they must do. But some would carry on. Alvares knew what had to be done, and so did she. Don’t I?
Neecie stepped
between the first sergeant and the navs, and Sheemi’s apprehension grew.
“Stay out of it, Birdel,” Mertik said.
Sheemi knew the look on Neecie’s face—jaw set, eyes hard. Her friend was committed. There’d be no turning back.
“I knew this might happen,” Alvares said. “And I know most of you are with me. It’s time to end this, and anyone who stands in our way is going down.”
“Move out of the way, Birdel,” Mertik said.
“No.”
“I’m ordering you to stand down, Birdel.”
“No, First Sergeant. I won’t let him turn us around.”
“You think you can take me?”
Neecie drew her knife.
Sheemi felt a sense of detachment take over, even as her instincts flared with the utter wrongness of the situation. Her best friend was about to fight their first sergeant, a good man. Don’t get involved, a little voice said. Let it happen. Ciib wanted to flee, turn his back on the mission, and that wasn’t acceptable. We’ve come too far.
Mertik shrugged and made to push past Neecie. He recoiled, nose bloody where she’d struck him with an elbow. Mertik’s fist snapped forward into Neecie’s face. The impact threw her to the floor, but she bounced back up, her own face bloody. Mertik tried more punches, but Neecie dodged and feinted, knife flashing from one hand to the next. Sheemi sucked in a breath.
When Mertik lunged, Neecie ducked under his outstretched arms and slipped behind him. Her knife hand jerked, and blood spattered the floor. Everyone seemed stunned. Mertik fell, cursing and clutching his leg.
“Sorry, First Sergeant,” Neecie said. “Captain Alvares is right—we’ve got to finish this.”
“Think about what you’re doing, Brent,” Ciib said to Alvares. “It’s not right. It’s not even strategic. This will put fuel on the flames. We’ll go from being pawns to co-aggressors. The Hexi will go after us harder than ever.”
“You’re wrong,” Alvares said. “This will end the war.”
“Drop the knife, Birdel,” Ciib said.
“No, sir.”
“Drop it and stand down.”
The Farthest City Page 28