by Chris Bunch
He pulled the aksai back into a climb, fed power.
"Ex-Alpha, this is Chase One," the pilot of the stunt plane said. "You went past me like payday. On full power, climbing after you… you're still pulling away from me."
"Power setting, half-power, I think," Dill said. "The mother seems to work. Beginning aerobatic routine."
He touched other sensors, and the aksai banked left, right, rolled, suddenly spun for an instant, corrected itself.
"Shit, this bassid's delicate," Dill said. "Try that one again."
Once more he went through the memorized routine, at various altitudes, stages of power.
"She seems to want to motivate," he said. "First hairy routine."
He nosed over, sent the aksai screaming toward the far-distant ocean below.
"Radar has you at Mach 7," Chaka said. "Passing through five thousand meters."
"Feels like. Beginning pullout. Lemme know if the wings fall off, if that's what they call these wiggly guys on either side of me."
Dill touched the base of a sensor, and the aksai lifted, bobbled, then smoothly swooped back up into the skies.
"Bird's got a nice gimmick," he said. "Antigrav cuts in when you pull more'n, guesstimate, five Gs. I could do this all day long and not puke more'n once or twice.
"Stand by Chase One, I'm gonna yump for space. Control, you've alerted Big Ears? I'd hate to get my ass shot off as an unknown intruder."
"That's affirm," Chaka said. "Everybody's turning a blind eye."
The warning stations at C-Cumbre's north and south poles and on the moons of Fowey and Bodwin had been alerted to see nothing and notify no one of the tests.
"Ears… eyes… what a confusion. Yow! Chase One, I just blew past you like you were parked… Chase Two, this is Experimental Alpha. Do you have me?"
A converted private yacht just out-atmosphere opened its mike.
"Have you roarin' and ready, Alpha."
"Advancing to two-thirds drive," Dill said. "And let's see what Kailas looks like. Experimental One, clear."
Two hours later, Dill touched his mike sensor.
"Experimental Control, Experimental Control, this is
Experimental-Alpha, inbound from the far side of the moon."
"I have you, Ex-Alpha."
"This sucker scrambles," Dill reported. "Wish I had stardrive clearance. It'd be interesting to see what happens when I hit the big red button."
"That's for another hero, later," Chaka said. "Bring it on home. It seems like we're a success."
"Wait 'til I land," Dill said. "If I land. Then break out the champagne and promotions. But it does look like, assuming we can get those other sluts in the air, the Force has got some new toys."
PlanGov at one time had been led by Confederation officials, most killed in a 'Raum suicide strike. Now PlanGov was a Council of some twenty men and women, all Cumbre natives. Caud Rao had to lay down the law quite firmly to keep the Rentiers, the self-appointed rulers of the system, from simply appointing twenty of their own, and had forced the aristos to put three 'Raum, one merchant, one fisherman, and two miners, both also 'Raum, on the board, as well as a nonvoting observer from the Force. The positions were initially named by caucuses of the various classes, but free elections had been promised within a year.
It didn't give the majority of the population majority rule, but it was a hopeful beginning.
The Rentiers had been hit as hard as anyone during the 'Raum riots, and so the Council members were mostly younger than traditional elitists.
Among the new executives were Loy Kouro, the dap-perly handsome heir to Matin , Cumbre's biggest and most conservative news source and publishing trust, whose father had died in the blast that destroyed the PlanGov; and Jasith Mellusin, who'd become the heir to Mellusin Mining in the same explosion.
The two had another thing in common: Garvin Jaan-sma. Kouro had become his enemy after a minor brawl at a party; Jasith had been his lover, then suddenly broke off the relationship, without offering any explanation, when the fighting ended.
Caud Rao waited until the Council's normal business came to an end, then requested his matter be held in camera, which was promptly granted. It was still close enough to the insurrection that the Rentiers hadn't forgotten who'd kept their corrupt regime from being completely destroyed.
"There probably isn't any question more important to us," Caud Rao began, "than what has happened to the Confederation, or, rather, why Cumbre has been cut off from any contact with the mother worlds.
"We don't have a complete answer, but we have a partial one, with supporting evidence:
"The worlds of Larix and Kura, supposed longtime allies of ours, have been systematically cutting off any convoy or single ship passing through their sector."
Rao paused, waited for the outrage and shock to settle. He nodded to Penwyth, who set up his equipment.
"Not only have convoys not been reaching us for more than two local years, but none of the starships offplanet-ing from Cumbre have returned, no matter what their destination within the Confederation.
"We determined to find out, if we could, what was happening. We acquired a small transport, roboticized its controls, and fitted it with the most elaborate sensors we have access to. A second, manned ship completed the task force.
"The first ship was programmed to follow the standard astrographic plots between Cumbre and Centrum, the Confederation capital. Most frequently, these plots pass close to Larix and Kura, with the third or fourth jump beyond Cumbre entering their system.
"The first ship was to make a jump, then, immediately on return to normal space, launch a missile with star-drive capabilities. All data received by the ship's sensors was to be 'cast on a tight beam to the missile. If the datalink was broken, the missile was to enter N-space, and send out a targeting signal for the second ship to home on.
"On the first jump, nothing happened, and the second ship's crew signaled the first to make another jump. Again there was nothing untoward.
"However, the third jump was very different. When still in hyperspace, the first ship was swept by detectors. When it exited N-space, it was immediately challenged. Since there was no crew aboard to respond, the ship was attacked.
"I have full records of events to this point for anyone interested. However, the most important data is from this point forward."
He nodded to Penwyth, who touched sensors and the screen lit.
"This," Rao explained, "is a composite image from various sensors aboard the roboticized transport. Here, you can see a ship appear from hyperspace. This ship has been identified, plus or minus less than point-one percent, as being a Confederation Remora-class destroyer leader.
"The flagship of Alena Redruth's fleet is such a ship, the Corfe .
"This isn't necessarily conclusive, however. Over two hundred of that class DL have been commissioned in the last twenty years, and some might have fallen into the hands of pirates, if such exist.
"At this point, our transport has been electronically challenged, ordered to take up a certain orbit and prepare for inspection. The challenge is preemptory, and no part of the signal says who the challenging party is.
"Of course, our ship failed to respond.
"Now, you see three other ships, here, here, and here on-screen? These are very unusual, brand new Nirvana-class patrol boats.
"Now, these ships are very new, very classified, and all are supposedly reserved for Confederation Home-world troops.
"How my predecessor, the late Caud Williams, learned of their existence, how he was able to request some of them, is beyond my ken. But he did, and those ships were also on the Malvern , the mysteriously high-jacked ship, together with other supplies and more than seven hundred fifty fresh recruits.
"Only three of those recruits, incidentally, were able to evade the 'pirates,' and make their way in a lifeboat to Cumbre. Two of them still survive, serving in the Force. The third man, an experienced Confederation soldier, absolutely identified one
of the 'pirates' as being another Confederation veteran who'd left the service to join Alena Redruth's forces. Unfortunately, this third man didn't survive the recent… unpleasantness. However, his friends did, and one of them positively identified this soldier as being among the 'pirates,' and later saw him some months ago, as part of Alena Redruth's staff when they visited C-Cumbre.
"The reason that none of you have heard of these three is because the late Planetary Governor Haemer and Caud Williams ordered them to keep silent.
"Those Mrvana-class ships, by the way, accompanied Protector Redruth on the Corfe when he visited the Cumbre system last. I don't know if Caud Williams failed to recognize those patrol craft, or chose to keep quiet, or possibly informed Planetary Governor Haemer of them. Both men are dead now, so it doesn't matter.
"But the evidence now is quite clear. Our supposed friend, Alena Redruth, is the pirate, the one who's successfully blockading Confederation ships, if any, from reaching us and vice versa."
The Council grew into a hubbub of shock, disbelief. Rao waited patiently.
Kouro was the first to speak or rather wail, somewhat coherently.
"But what does this mean ?"
"It means, just for openers," Rao said, "we've got more than one enemy to worry about. The next time Protector Redruth offers his support, I imagine it will be made in even stronger terms than before. A man who's willing to chance angering the Confederation certainly will have no hesitation seizing Cumbre's resources, given half a chance."
"And what will we do?"
"I've taken a vow to the Confederation," Rao said. "As have all my officers. If anyone attempts to overthrow the legal government of Cumbre, we'll fight."
"But they've got starships, heavy equipment, a far larger army, don't they?" This came from another Council member.
"So the fiches tell us," Rao said.
"Can we beat them?" This was from Jasith Mellusin.
"I don't know," Rao said honestly. "That's why I came here. We need to put Cumbre on a war footing immediately, or face the likelihood of attack, possibly invasion."
"Another question," Jasith said. "This is important to me, and to my father's mining companies, which I've inherited. Before the war, when Protector Redruth visited us, he said that he wanted to increase the amount of ore shipped to his system, that he was going to build a lot more ships than he had.
"But this hasn't happened. My advisors told me the matter was never brought up again to my father, and we can't find any memos or contracts in our files. Do you have any idea what might've happened?"
"I don't know," Caud Rao said. "If I were cynical, I'd say that Redruth is waiting for a more favorable opportunity."
"Like just taking them?" Jasith asked.
"I'd guess that thought must've occurred," Rao said.
Jasith made a face, but said no more.
"One question that's a little aside from the main matter," a woman asked quietly. She was new to the Council, a 'Raum appointee, and Rao puzzled for her name. Jo Poynton.
"Yes?"
"I'm not familiar with interstellar travel," she said. "Is the only route, if that's the correct word, through Larix and Kura?"
"No," Rao said. "But it's the most economical and commonly used by far."
"If the Confederation was still intact, or still concerned about frontier systems like Cumbre, and if they had repeatedly tried one route without success, wouldn't they most likely try a second, or a third?"
"I certainly would, if I were a Confederation official."
"Yet nothing has come from them since the Malvern ," Poynton said thoughtfully.
"So even if we believe your investigation, which certainly sounds credible, the question remains: Something must have happened to the Confederation, to the thousand thousand worlds of our empire, something beyond the petty machinations of this Redruth.
"We know from reports by newly assigned troops and emigrants there were civil risings throughout the empire, including major riots on Capella. Many worlds were put under martial law. There were unconfirmed reports that entire sectors of the empire dropped out of contact or, worse, declared some sort of unilateral independence.
"But what catastrophe could have produced this sudden silence, this complete breakdown of all communications?
"I wish," Caud Rao said slowly, "I could even hazard a guess. But I cannot."
Chapter 3
Njangu Yoshitaro leaned against the orderly room railing, listening to the clerk call the mail list: "Irthing… Bassas… Fleam…"
He pared his nails with his combat knife, wondering what it'd be like to get a letter from someone, tried to pretend it didn't matter that he never had.
"… Bayle… Alt Jaansma…"
Njangu looked up with a bit of surprise. Garvin got no more mail than he did, and Yoshitaro wondered who it could be from. Probably a dun from a tailor—Jaansma insisted on dressing like the illegitimate son of a Star Marshal that he occasionally claimed to be.
He idly watched Garvin as the clerk finished the rest of the mail, handed out a few packages. Jaansma opened the small envelope, pulled out what appeared to be a card. His face reddened, and he looked around to see if anyone noticed. Njangu was busy with his nails.
Garvin read the card once more, crumpled it, tossed it into a waste container, and went down the steps into the company area, bootheels thudding hard. A new troopie went by at the double, as required of all potential I&R recruits.
"Hold it, soldier," Garvin snapped.
The striker broke stride, almost fell, froze at attention.
"Yessir!"
"There's this thing called saluting," the officer said.
"Sorry, Alt Jaansma. Sorry, sir."
He saluted, Jaansma returned it ill-temperedly.
"Carry on!"
"Yessir. Sorry, sir."
The soldier watched Garvin pace away, his expression worried, as if this might be enough to get him returned to his parent formation, then ran on.
Njangu went to the waste can, took out the crumpled card Garvin had tossed away, unwrapped it:
LOY KOURO
&
Jasith Mellusin Request the Pleasure and Honor
Of
Your Company at their Post-nuptial Beach Bacchanal…
"Well, Jesus in lace," Njangu muttered. "There are some evil humpers out there a lot worse than I ever thought of being." He wondered who sent the invitation—the worthless Kouro or his bride-to-be. Yoshi-taro'd never had much of an opinion of Jasith, other than the general disdain anyone growing up without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of had for the rich.
He made a note to stay out of Garvin's way until some days after the reception.
At least , he thought, they didn't invite him to the wedding. Probably afraid he'd strafe it with a flight of Grier-sons, which wasn't that bad an idea. Get rid of a whole flock of Rentiers …
Two days later, an ebullient Ben Dill ricocheted into Garvin at the I&R Company's landing field.
"Kiss me," he ordered.
Garvin gave him a hard look, which Ben was oblivious to.
"I just got my license ticked for deep space! I'se a real piloter! C'mon to the O Club and help me drink it in."
"Sorry," Garvin said shortly. "I'm running late on the company report. Maybe another time."
He nodded, walked away. Dill stared after him.
"Well excuse the hell out of me," he said in a hurt tone. "And what's the matter with my perfume today?"
Jon Hedley considered the aircraft park, then the camouflage nets, which blocked infrared and heat signals as well as sight.
"We could have us," he told Mil Angara, "a flipping good shipping company if we wanted."
Angara nodded.
"Six freighters, eight yachts, a skedaddle of lighters, six converted customs patrol craft, all the Griersons and Zhukovs tested for out-atmosphere deployment… what more could we need?" Hedley said.
"A destroyer, a cruiser, a battlewagon, a fighte
r-launcher for openers," Angara said.
"You surely know how to rain on somebody's flipping parade. You'd think you were expecting, oh, say, the flipping Musth or maybe Alena Redruth."
"I expect everything, I expect nothing," Angara said. "I am an open vessel."
"But you gotta admit we're as ready as we're able to be."
"We are," Angara agreed. "I just wish we had more stuff to get more ready. At least we're pretty well dispersed, so all there is to do is worry."
"Not quite," Hedley said. "Considering it's a half hour back to Camp Mahan, and it's pretty near opening time, we'd better hurry."
"I see you caught that about open vessels, didn't you," Angara said.
"I always listen to my flipping superiors," Hedley said piously.
"A word?" Njangu asked, sounding a bit formal. Garvin put down his paperwork. "Go ahead."
"Has anybody suggested you're behaving a bit like an asshole lately?"
Garvin colored, got up from his desk in the I&R Company Headquarters.
"You know, I didn't need this shit from you, of all people."
"Who else is gonna give it to you?" Yoshitaro pointed out. "We happen to be friends, remember?"
"Just leave it alone," Jaansma said. "I'll be all right."
"Sure you will. You'll get over being dumped on, sooner or later. Nobody I ever knew died of a busted heart. But you're sure playing hell with the company while you're getting better, growling at everybody so nobody knows whether to shit or go blind, ignoring people half the time, giving them a ration of crap the other half."
Garvin stared out at the company street, at a team going through gun drill on a rocket launcher borrowed from an Artillery section—I&R trained on every weapon, every vehicle in RaoForce as a matter of routine.
"Whoever dumped that invite on you wasn't your friend," Njangu pressed. "And they sure succeeded in getting to you."
"You know about that?"
"I know about it," Njangu said. "And probably half the frigging regiment's figured it out by now."
"I thought I had all that business tucked away, forgotten," Garvin said. "And then whambo, it came bouncing right on back."
"Yeah," Njangu. "Ngai surprises us like that, making us think we're human and all every now and again."