The worst thing about the news hype, Hamilton was certain, was that it hadn’t been exaggerated by Walsh and his alien friends. This was exactly the kind of media hype he had come to know and loathe over the years. It wasn’t to say the news outfits had made it all up. No doubt the authorities on Tantalus had put their own spin on things. But the tendency to ‘jazz’ things up a little to make it more exciting or shocking was an age old problem with the media.
However, they all got a certain amount of amusement from looking at the images of Hamilton, Klane, Rames et al that the news outlets transmitted as part of their stories. The images had been doctored to make them appear more menacing and evil. In reality, it made them look cartoonish and ridiculous. Klane, for example, was depicted as having a laser weapon bolted to the side of her head. Hamilton had an eye patch and a scurvy-looking beard, like some pirate out of the olden days. Lewis had some kind of mental force emanating from her head and the gold contacts were depicted as sharp little horns. The rest all had exaggerated leers or wicked looking eyes. All of them were depicted with a variety of nasty, but entirely impractical, hand weapons. If it wasn’t so serious, they might have even laughed.
The only good thing to come out of it was that there was almost no chance of anyone recognizing them from the images. They’d still have to avoid security cameras and checkpoints, but at least no one was going to point them out in the streets.
There was no mention of the incident at Aurica. Hamilton and the others hadn’t really expected there to be. Aurica was almost entirely a military system. The few civilian contractors were kept under tight reign and the military would not want it known generally that they had lost so many small craft, not to mention the theft of so many warheads. By now, over a week later, they would have discovered the role of the maintenance craft in the theft and be searching for it diligently. But what the military did and what the public got to know about were two entirely different things. There would be no admission of loss by the brass.
The maintenance craft was checked and re-checked. They had already unloaded it of its cargo of EMP and nuclear warheads. Now they loaded in the EVA suits, weapons and a single EMP warhead.
The latter was intended as a distraction, rigged with a receiver for which only Klane and Hamilton had the transmission codes. Although designed to generate an EM pulse, the weapon was comprised of a fair amount of conventional explosive, more than enough to blow the maintenance craft to pieces at the same time as it generated its pulse. So they couldn’t use it whilst aboard, obviously. It was a getaway helper. Hamilton hoped to use it to distract the authorities once their mission was done, allowing them to make an escape.
In addition, the craft’s transponder was disabled. It wouldn’t do to announce that a maintenance craft from Aurica was insystem of Sol. That would spell instant disaster. However, there was no reliable way of spoofing the transponder signals to represent another ship. The challenge and reveal protocols were too complex and heavily encrypted for even the engineers to unravel. The best they might manage was to imitate a damaged transponder, and that would draw attention as swiftly as the craft’s genuine signal would. Better overall to not have a signal, and rely on not being detected at all.
Rames and Hamilton had agreed on a rendezvous point after their respective missions were done and a date beyond which it was pointless waiting any longer for the other vessel. A date and time had also been set for the active parts of their respective missions to commence. It was the point at which Rames would commence any necessary hostilities in the system holding the array and when Hamilton and his team would commence kidnap operations on Mars.
Eventually, all was in readiness. They prevaricated a few hours longer, neither of the two groups willing to say what might well turn out to be their final goodbyes. But, ultimately, they did so.
Hamilton and his team boarded the maintenance vessel and LeGault flew them out of the loading hangar it had been berthed in. The small repair craft had excellent visibility all around due to the nature of its duties, so they were all able to take a good look at the Morebaeus and the Ulysses as those two starships undocked from one another.
Marten Janes and a couple of the Marines had gone aboard the Morebaeus to keep Lewis company on the trip to the array. It had been made to look like an offer, but the truth was that Hamilton himself had requested it of Rames. Although Lewis had been almost pleasant since they had rescued her from Tantalus Station’s medical community, Hamilton didn’t fully trust her. The Marines, at least, were there to keep an eye on her as much as help her out with the ship.
Once their small craft was clear, the Morebaeus jumped without fanfare, disappearing in a flash of light and a burst of neutrinos and tachyons. This far out from Sol and its sensor network, though, there was no chance of anything being detected.
Ulysses hung around long enough to wish them a very low-power transmission, ‘Good luck’, then jumped away amid its own burst of exotic particles.
And then they were alone in the middle of nowhere.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ore Refinery C-197 hung several light minutes away from the official inner edge of Sol’s asteroid belt. It was one of a multitude of similar facilities, all identical apart from its designation. The facility was almost entirely automated, with a skeleton crew of just three people to do maintenance work on its systems and report any malfunctions that weren’t repairable.
It’s operation was simple. Automated mining stations among the nearby belt dug through and hollowed out the asteroids containing valuable ores. The excavated material was loaded onto small cargo transports and shipped to the refinery where the ore was turned into processed metals. As the refinery pumped out the metals, they were loaded aboard a huge bulk carrier. When that was full, it departed for the orbiting docks of Mars or Earth.
The entire procedure, from excavation of ore, to shipment of refined metals, was totally automatic. The skeleton crew simply kept things running smoothly. Cargo transports from the mines that broke down were simply parked until a replacement vessel arrived to take up its place. The broken down craft was then hauled away by a transporter for examination and recycling. Any breakdown of the facility that required outside help was considered a major priority, since shutting the facility down involved a vast cost in terms of lost production that could not be borne without express authority of the operation’s CEO.
So the refinery continued to run constantly. Production rose and fell as asteroids became mined out and new ones had to be found, but there was always activity. It was ceaseless.
The refinery and its scattered mining installations all forwarded flight plans for their craft back to the central command and control node for the whole system in Earth orbit. This ensured none of the mining vessels tripped any alarms during their journeys. They all had their own transponders too, making them all a part of the friendly network of vessels plying the system.
Sensors within the belt didn’t work as well as they should since the mining operations created a lot of loose debris – dust, gravel and similar sized debris – that had, over the years, blanketed the belt entirely. Accordingly, there was a certain amount of “check, double-check, then triple check” mentality going on amongst sensor operators monitoring the belt. No one wanted to be the operator that called foul on a legitimate mining vessel, or worse, on a piece of debris. It was a poor enough job as it was, watching a field of rocks, but there were always worse assignments and crying wolf was a sure way to earn yourself one.
On this particular day, an object appeared spontaneously on the console of one of the operators. The console itself immediately flagged it up for attention, since it appeared to be a sizeable object, as big as a shuttle. It had simply appeared, as if out of nowhere, amid the upper edge of the mining debris in the region of refinery C-197. The operator frowned, adjusted his sensors to scan more tightly and then…
The object faded away.
The operator continued to adjust the scan, hoping to relocate th
e object. But it was fruitless. The thing had vanished. She checked her transmission logs. The object had not been broadcasting any kind of signal, so it was probably not a ship. All ships were set to immediately broadcast their transponder code on emergence from hyperspace or a Skip jump. Given the lack of neutrinos and tachyons, it was not a hyperspace emergence. The operator shook her head. Only a fool would jump into the asteroid debris in any event. No one was that stupid. Likewise there were no significant energy readings.
Had she cared more about her job, she might have scanned the point where the object had appeared for particle density. That would have revealed a singular lack of particles in that specific spot, indicative of a hyperspace emergence. But she did not.
Instead, she logged the incidence and noted that it was likely a sensor reflection or, at worst, a larger than usual piece of debris that had drifted near to the edge of the debris. In other words, nothing to worry her superiors over. She reset the sensors to a general scan and went back to letting the console do her work for her.
*****
“Do you think we were spotted?” Johnson asked.
“We’ll know soon enough.” Klane stated.
LeGault shook his head. “I used the thrusters to drop us down into the debris as soon as we emerged. They couldn’t have noticed us. We were visible for no more than a couple of seconds, at most.”
“That’s all it takes.” Hamilton told him. “The belt has a fairly sophisticated sensor grid. In the past the mining vessels were prime fodder for pirates. Unarmed, unmanned. They could just match course and speed and unload them at their leisure.”
“That was a long time ago.” Klane pointed out.
“True,” Hamilton allowed. “But the sensors remained even after the Navy chased the pirates off. There’s big money out there. They spotted us all right. The only question is whether they thought we were a ship, or a rock.”
“What’s our status re energy output?” Klane asked.
It was Jones that replied. “We shut down everything non-essential just before we exited from the Skip. Only power to the thrusters and minimal life support remain.”
“What about the Skip Drive itself?” Carl frowned. “Doesn’t that give off a lot of energy?”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Johnson told him, going into physicist mode. “The Skip Drive just initiates the mini-hyperjump. Think of it like a…like a bow and arrow. The bow, in this case the Skip Drive, fires the arrow, our ship, through the air – that’s hyperspace. The ground is normal space. When the arrow lands it emerges back into normal space. The arrow being our ship, I mean. But by the time the arrow lands, the bow is inert again. Same with the Skip Drive. All of its work is down at the beginning. That’s sort of how it works, in simple terms.”
Carl nodded. “Thanks. That’s the first time someone’s ever explained something so that I actually understood it.”
“Me too.” Jones agreed. “All this science stuff gives me a headache, anyway.”
“How soon before we know if they are on to us?” Johnson asked.
“Shouldn’t be long.” Klane told them. “If they made us as a ship, one of the patrolling warships will send an assault shuttle Skipping down here to take a look. First we’ll know about it is when they scan us from short range.”
“They actually patrol the belt?” Jones shook his head. “Don’t they have anything better to do?”
“Did you actually read the information I put together?” Hamilton scowled at him.
“I skimmed through it. Mostly I concentrated on the security aspects. You know….my specialty?” Jones grumbled. “I leave the military stuff to you two.”
Hamilton shook his head, but Klane answered Jones’ question. “A lot of the Empire’s military recruitment comes from Earth and Mars. The system has such a massive population, there’s no shortage of volunteers. A lot of the training is done here as well. Ground troops on Mars, and Naval training in system. The Navy uses the asteroids and outlying mining posts and research stations to train Naval procedures and tactics. The Navy’s been patrolling the belt for decades as a training exercise.”
“So the people aboard are all green recruits?” Jones suggested.
Klane shrugged. “A lot of them, yes. However, the officers will all be veterans nearing retirement. It’s the Navy’s way. The veterans do the training. Make no mistake, though. A nuke launched by a newbie will kill us just as efficiently as one launched by a trained operator.”
“So how long do we wait?” Carl asked.
“Ten minutes should do it.” Hamilton stated. “If we’re still alive by then, we’re safe.”
The minutes ticked by as they waited for the instruments to tell them they were being scanned.
“Now I know how those sub crews used to feel.” Johnson muttered. The others glanced at her curiously. “Subs? Submarines? You guys don’t have submarines in your surface navies?”
“There aren’t really any surface navies, if by that you mean water-borne vessels.” Hamilton told her. “Most planet-based conflict uses gravitic vehicles.”
“Wait, there aren’t any ships, water craft, anymore?” She looked horrified.
“Not military, anyway. Plenty of civilian craft, of course.” Klane replied.
“There just isn’t the need for them.” Hamilton added. “They’re too slow moving. Sea craft are strictly recreational now.”
“But what about shipping? Wouldn’t that be a target in a war?” She persisted.
“Most commercial freight is also gravitic. It’s just quicker, and you don’t have to build roads, especially.” Klane explained.
“So what were subs?” Jones asked.
“Underwater naval vessels.” She explained. “They were used to target shipping on the surface and were a sort of stealth nuclear missile platform in my day.”
Klane snorted. “We have orbital nuke delivery platforms now. Plus, the countermeasures against surface-launched warheads mean none of them would ever be a serious threat anymore. I guess the orbiters have replaced your subs.”
“Damn!” Johnson said.
“We’re several klicks inside the debris field now.” LeGault said from the helm. “I think we’re safe even if they do send a ship to scan for us.”
“Safe enough to move off?” Hamilton asked.
“We’re trying to sneak into the most heavily defended system in the Empire. What’s safe got to do with anything?” LeGault smiled.
Hamilton nodded. “Good point. Okay. Bring the drive online and let’s move off. Let’s see if we can find ourselves a mine.”
*****
A mine was not hard to find. Even with their sensors set to passive mode only, the energy output from a mine was hard to miss. Since the mining machinery was entirely automated, there was plenty of power output to be detected. In addition, there were usually one or two mining cargo vessels waiting to be loaded before heading back to the refinery.
The cargo vessels, all automated as well, had minimal sensors and followed pre-programmed routes between mine and refinery. Their limited autonomy and sensor apparatus allowed them to avoid unexpected obstacles in their flight paths but there was no real intelligence in them.
Accordingly, it was relatively easy for the maintenance vessel to approach one of the ships waiting its turn to be loaded. The mine itself had no sensing apparatus. The cargo vessels merely approached the automated loading tube, waited until it was free, then docked until their holds were full.
Even so, they approached the waiting cargo hauler slowly on thrusters, half expecting the freight vessel to move out of their way suddenly. But it did not. It simply hung there as the maintenance craft used its recovery arm to latch onto it.
Although the cargo vessel was tiny compared to the giant bulk carriers that ran between the refinery and Mars, it was more than large enough for the tiny repair craft to be relatively un-noticeable hanging on to it.
Whilst they waited their turn, another cargo hauler joined the back of t
he queue. Within an hour, the currently docked vessel was filled and departed and their unwilling host moved in and docked with the loading tube.
The ore being loaded was mostly crushed rock and occasional larger pieces. Every so often, though, there would be a massive tremor go through the cargo vessel as a particularly huge lump was deposited, the vibration being transmitted through the recovery arm.
“Relax.” Hamilton told them as he saw the nervous glances the thuds caused. “I’m sure it’s perfectly normal.”
It took them four hours to complete loading up. Then they were off, the cargo hauler with its passenger moving away from the mining facility. Another two vessels had arrived in the queue whilst they were being loaded.
“Do you think the added mass of the ship will be noticed?” Jones wondered.
“I doubt it.” Klane told him. “That ore ship must have tens of thousands of tons of rock aboard. Each trip its overall mass will change over a wide amount. Our little boat is nothing more than the equivalent of an extra large boulder.”
Hamilton nodded. “I doubt they even monitor that, to be honest. At least, I reasoned it was unlikely when I came up with this plan.”
Their path through the asteroid belt was not at all harrowing. The cargo hauler’s route avoided anything that was bigger than a fist. A massive, heavily reinforced, umbrella-like structure at its bow physically deflected any particles that got in its way. Additionally, the hull of the cargo vessel was so thick that any particle striking it was unlikely to do much damage. It was a triumph of brutish engineering.
Hamilton supposed that eventually the umbrella or hull would fail in such a way as to render the vessel useless for its task. As with everything the Empire did these days, the ship probably went to some recycling depot to be cut up for scrap. Given the amount of ship traffic in Sol, there was probably a major recycling depot somewhere in the system. It was simply easier to throw away old vessels. No one repaired anything if they didn’t have to. The sensor drones at Aurica were a prime example of quantity over quality. They were disposable, too.
A Taste Of Despair (The Humal Sequence) Page 21