Hilldiggers (polity)

by Neal Asher

  "We have the means to do so," he confirmed. "It must always be remembered that it is the Worm that raised Combine to power, and the Worm still remains the central basis of that power. Remove control of the Worm from that amalgamation of companies known as Orbital Combine, and you remove what binds them together. Then Combine will assuredly fall apart."

  Harald slipped on the control glove that had been hanging at his belt.

  "I require only one thing of all of you: that you do your duty, as you have always done and always will, on behalf of the Sudorian people."

  Stepping back he seated himself in the former Admiral's old chair. Within the Bridge itself, hands drummed on consoles, and there arose a murmur of approval. This same busy but muted applause occurred throughout the ship. Harald felt that their reaction was nowhere near enough, and decided then that he must consolidate his power further—but not right now.

  The speech had sapped his strength and a nugget of pain was growing inside his skull. He quickly shut down general address, then double-checked to be sure his image no longer appeared on any screens throughout the ship. Quickly he slipped a painkilling capsule into his mouth and, as it dissolved, he removed the paired syringes from a belt pouch and carefully injected the combined drugs that Jeon had provided earlier. His weariness began to disperse, but the pain in his head increased—probably exacerbated by the stimulant. A bewildering surge of anger hit him, and he sat for a while with his eyes closed, his fingers digging into the chair arms. Slowly, the pain began to subside, dragging the strange anger away with it. Opening his eyes, he realised he could not afford too many more lapses like this over the coming hours.

  Calling up new images on the screens before him, Harald confirmed that the ships were ready to move in closer to Sudoria. Defence Platform Two still hung tilted in vacuum, a gaping hole in its side with what looked like an oxygen fire raging inside it. Its shields were failing and below it he could see an inter-station shuttle departing. They were now evacuating. Before speaking, Harald worked some saliva into his dry mouth.

  "Soderstrom, ignore the support ships now," Harald instructed. "Concentrate all fire from your own ship and from Stormfollower and Musket on the platform itself. I want it completely out of commission within the next half-hour."

  Those three ships, holding a V formation above the stricken Defence Platform, with Soderstrom's Harvester at point, showed no sign that their firing pattern had changed, but now only the shields directly above Platform Two flashed in and out of visibility, and the attendant supply ships were left unharried to make their escape towards Platform Three. Harald then switched to a more distant view, transmitted from one of the many camera satellites Fleet had deployed. Now that he had acquired more data, on that original view he overlaid a schematic of the projected reach of the shields and weapons on the remaining platforms. As he had supposed, knocking out three platforms gave him a nearly clear run down to atmosphere below the platforms, where few weapons and shields were directed. Of course taking a hilldigger down into atmosphere was fraught with its own problems. As far as he recollected it had only been done twice, and then only into the thin upper reaches of Brumal's exosphere, whereas here it would be necessary for them to go down nearly as far as Sudoria's thermosphere—almost fifty miles deeper.

  Beside Ironfist, the hilldigger Desert Wind held station as before.

  "Are you ready, Franorl?"

  "I'm ready, and I'm bored with waiting if you really want to know. How are you feeling, by the way?"

  How am I? Harald was functioning quite ably but could no longer feel any lasting emotional engagement with what he was doing. In fact the only emotions he seemed to be experiencing were those sudden strange surges of anger. Also, the pain in his skull seemed to be just waiting to expand with joyous abandon.

  "I am still alive, which certainly wasn't someone's intention," he replied.

  "I was advised that your injuries were severe, else I would not have pulled the fleet back," Franorl explained.

  Harald expected the Captain to have received an eyewitness account of the attack on him, and his injuries, since he maintained spies amidst Harald's staff. The man was a climber and warranted close scrutiny. Harald was beginning to feel that he had trusted Franorl, and some others, too readily. Only Jeon herself truly knew how serious Harald's injury had been and how close he had come to death, and he did not intend to make that knowledge available to any of those he distrusted.

  "Merely a concussion, from which I have recovered well," he replied. "Now, observe Platform Two."

  The shields above the platform were now constantly lit up and in motion. A shimmer in space above them, almost like a heat haze shot through with flashes of greenish light, showed that Harvester and the two ships slaved to it were currently using their beam weapons. On the platform itself pinpoints of fire flared brightly wherever shield generators began burning out. Then small, relatively cool explosions began to ignite outwards from the shields. The attackers were now launching atomics which the Defence Platform's beam weapons were intercepting and vaporising. The constant shifting of shields was an attempt by those in the station to cover lost ones, but the bombardment was becoming too much, and eventually projectiles began to get through. And only one was ultimately required.

  A sun-bright explosion blanked all the instruments for a couple of seconds. When they finally came back online, the platform was flying apart on the periphery of a fireball. The ball deformed, elongated as gravity dragged it down, began to disperse higher up so it took on the shape almost of a flowering cactus. Debris streaked down into the atmosphere, burning up. A chunk of something looking like a burning tram carriage tumbled past Harald's immediate viewpoint.

  "Now, Franorl, we begin our run," said Harald. Then he spoke, over general address to his Bridge crew. "Begin descent into atmosphere. Main engines at half power until we hit the exosphere, then one-eighth drive and steering thrusters only. Firing Control, I want you to use defensive fire only until we are below the level of the platforms." It was not necessary for him to issue that order out loud, since the crew had already received the attack plans, but he felt this crucial moment demanded his vocal reinforcement. Now contacting the Captain of Harvester, while observing that ship and its two slaves on-screen, he ordered, "Soderstrom, move into position over Corisanthe II, and remind them there just what hilldiggers can do. I don't want to see a single supply ship leaving that station intact."

  Around him, Ironfist rumbled as its main drive ignited. After a moment he observed flares of light from the formation of the three other ships as their drives started up too. Then followed a detonation in the engine section of one of the rear two vessels, tipping it up and spewing debris out into vacuum.

  "Soderstrom, what was that?" he enquired coolly.

  After a short delay Soderstrom appeared in Harald's eye-screen. "An explosion in Stormfollower's engine galleries. Understandably, Tlaster Cobe isn't speaking to me."

  Harald opened some connections to Stormfollower, and his view into the stricken ship's Bridge showed it to be partially abandoned, though the Captain still stood there surveying the Firing Control screens. Then, attempting to link to cameras in the engine galleries, Harald found they were all blanked out, which could be due to either the explosion or to sabotage. He began running checks through the entire vessel and soon found what had happened. From a camera forward of the galleries, he observed a party of three crewmen in space-suits moving through a section he had opened to vacuum on seizing control of this same ship.

  "Soderstrom," he snapped, an ugly suspicion rooting itself in his mind, "that ship was slaved to yours. So you knew precisely what to watch out for."

  "With the greatest respect, Admiral Harald, running one hilldigger during a battle is enough of a chore. Attempting to also control two others whose crews are out to thwart you is no easy task."

  Harald made a comlink through to the Bridge of Stormfollower. "Captain Cobe, I see that you have managed to cripple your own ship."<
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  The Captain looked up directly into the Bridge camera. In a timeless gesture he held up his fist and extended his mid finger, then returned his attention to his screens. Gazing at his own screens Harald observed that Harvester and Musket were parting company with Stormfollower. He also observed that Soderstrom was running a security check on Musket, and as yet had found no attempts at sabotage. The sudden violent surge of anger he felt caught him off guard. Desperately trying to control it, he found himself panting and tightly gripping his chair arms. But the feeling would not go away, and in the end there seemed only one way to assuage it: he must sacrifice something to his rage. On making that decision he felt some degree of control return, so he linked in again to the systems of Stormfollower, then struggled with a quartered eye-screen as he programmed in the alterations he had to make. After a moment he observed the blue-red flames of the steering thrusters igniting down one side of the crippled hilldigger. Finally he spoke to the Bridge of that ship again—and to Musket too, so the Captain there might know the cost of rebellion.

  "Captain Cobe," he began, with gritted teeth. When the Captain did not look up, Harald continued. "If you check your navigation control, you will see that I have input a program to your steering thrusters. They will sufficiently change your trajectory to take you down towards Sudoria. If Combine does not destroy you first, you will enter atmosphere in eight hours' time and begin to burn up. What remains of you and your ship should impact the Brak sea only a little while after that." Cobe looked up at last. "Harald, out."

  17

  The downsizing of Fleet after the War and the almost explosive growth of Orbital Combine has caused a power shift in Sudorian politics. But a hundred years of dominance and tradition is not something easy to put aside. For all this time the social and economic system of Sudoria had been a support industry for Fleet, and at the end of the War almost one-third of Sudorians were either serving in Fleet itself or working in the orbital war industries. Fleet began to lose its grip on power when Corisanthe Main was essentially removed from its control by Parliament and new high-tech industries began to burgeon from there. Fleet's grip was further loosened by the simple fact that people were tired of war, and rather liked the idea of making some money and better lives for themselves. Conscription continued, but since the Brumallians had been bombed into near oblivion, few saw any further point in it, and meanwhile GDS became disinclined to hunt down draft dodgers. Fleet power has therefore been on the wane for some time, but the people of Sudoria must remain forever vigilant. Like some big beast in its death throes, Fleet might strike out again and, with the hilldiggers still under its control, its last bite might kill us all. Though the very idea of civil war was unthinkable twenty years ago, now it is a very real possibility.

  — Uskaron

  Director Gneiss

  He observed Stormfollower first hanging crippled in space, then being sent on a new trajectory by its steering thrusters. The injured ship would pass close to Defence Platform Seven, which he felt would only need to keep its shields up as a precaution, since it struck him as unlikely that it was a target. However, Harald might still have control of Stormfollower's weapons, so should Combine send rescue craft to intercept it? It seemed obvious that Tlaster Cobe had taken a similar route to the one Orvram Davidson intended to take. Gneiss wondered if the latter Captain might have changed his mind now. Perhaps not, for the nature of his sabotage was subtle and might not even be found out.

  The other two hilldiggers, Harvester and Musket, were now pounding away at Corisanthe II, whilst Wildfire and Resilience were together hitting Corisanthe III. Gneiss had warned Glass to keep sufficient weapons free for the moment those three shield generators on Resilience went down. Taking one ship out of play there would give some relief to Glass's station, though it still remained in danger of being destroyed.

  The Director now turned his attention to Ironfist and Desert Wind. Both ships were rapidly heading down into the gap Fleet had created, and Gneiss contemplated the loose thread that could completely unravel Combine's defences, for putting those two vessels below the level of the platforms would take them out of the firing arc of Combine's big guns. From there Harald would be able to steadily work his way around the planet, obliterating every Defence Platform and perhaps much of Combine's industrial base and infrastructure as well. Of course it would not come to that, because at some point wavering members of the Oversight Committee would be contemplating the destruction of everything they had helped build and authorise the deployment of gravtech weapons, despite collateral damage caused to the planet below. Gneiss naturally would then vote against the committee majority.

  When hungry I deny it, when thirsty I don't drink. All the pressure forcing me to do what I must do, I counter, and so at last manage to remain me.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed at his temples. Did he want Fleet to wipe out all the Defence Platforms and knock Orbital Combine from its place in the sky? Did he so abhor that stagnation to which Dalepan had referred while drugged out of his mind that he was prepared to countenance the destruction of Combine to end it? With robotic precision he had always carried out his duties as they were considered appropriate by Oversight. He did not stint in that respect, yet at his core he felt almost despair at the prospect of his own organisation repelling Fleet—and as a consequence his own situation here remaining unchanged. It was a dilemma he could not resolve—one that had held him in stasis ever since that time in Ozark One when he had first felt that other will. He gazed at his screens, trying to find some way out without losing himself. A contact icon lit, and he automatically opened it.

  "I've received a rather strange message from one of Chairman Duras's staff," said Dalepan, who was gazing out at him with an expression twisted by some strange emotion.

  "And the message is?"

  "Apparently Parliament has reviewed the evidence from Brumal and found it sufficient to implicate Fleet in abuse of power. In the eyes of Parliament, we are now the innocent parties in this dispute."

  "That is so gratifying to know. I'll try to remember it when I find myself attempting to breathe vacuum." He paused, assessing. "But I have yet to hear any strange message."

  "Apparently the Chairman now wishes this Brumallian evidence to be presented to the Oversight Committee. He wants that Brumallian ship to come up here and deliver it to us. His tone was all rather low-key, as if he hoped the whole business would be approved without much notice."

  Curious. Gneiss leaned back in his chair. In the midst of a struggle where such evidence now mattered not one wit, the Chairman wanted it brought here.

  "Inform them that if the Brumallian ship approaches this station without permission—and it does not have my permission—it will be destroyed. Then I want you to contact the Chairman for me. Inform me at once when you have arranged that."

  His response was precisely what it should be, yet he knew that even in the midst of the distractions of battle he wanted the Chairman to give him sufficient reason to allow that ship to come here.

  Something to stir the waters?

  The Chairman must have been ready waiting, for after only a moment Dalepan looked up. "I have him for you." The screen blanked for a second, then Chairman Duras appeared.

  "What can I do for you, Director Gneiss?" he enquired.

  "You could explain why, right in the midst of a battle, you feel it so necessary to get evidence to us of Fleet's complicity in recent events."

  "As Chairman, I need only make my explanations to Parliament," Duras replied primly. "You previously assured me that Orbital Combine bows to the will of Parliament."

  Almost automatically, Gneiss shot back, "Is it genuinely the will of Parliament for a Brumallian ship to bring this evidence here?"

  "Parliament agrees that this evidence should be presented to you as soon as conveniently possible."

  "Sending such a ship here now would be most inconvenient. I am not inclined, whilst we fight for our lives here, to have any Brumallians aboa
rd this station." Gneiss felt a sinking sensation as he realised he did indeed possess the power to deny the Chairman's request.

  "But no Brumallians as such will be joining you there." Duras smiled tightly. "Those who will take the evidence aboard Corisanthe Main are your own employee Yishna, her siblings Orduval and Rhodane, and the Polity Consul Assessor. I believe that Combine Oversight has shown itself anxious to discuss some matters with David McCrooger?"

  "Yes, you're quite right." Only one valid objection remained. "However, there are many security matters to consider, the foremost being that in our present situation we cannot safely allow a Brumallian ship to dock here."

  "It will not be necessary for it to dock. Yishna's inter-station shuttle is aboard it."

  Gneiss paused, a feeling of excitement, almost joy, suffusing him. "Then in that case I must accede to the will of Parliament. Send us your evidence. Send us the ship."

  "Always a pleasure," said Duras, giving a token bow before he signed off.

  "Dalepan, tell me immediately that ship launches."

  "It has already launched," the OCT replied. "Yishna will be here within the hour."

  Gneiss sat back and absorbed that news. Within the hour three of the four children of Elsever Strone would be here aboard this station.

  "I knew your mother, you know."

  Gneiss remembered gazing across at the brilliant child Yishna Strone and wondering just how he could have uttered those words so casually. Elsever herself had been brilliant, beautiful, and Oberon Gneiss had loved her from the first moment he saw her, while she had reciprocated with a tolerant affection and often outrageous flirting. At that time occupying the position of Military Director of the civilian contingent, under the oversight of Fleet Command, Gneiss knew he had to be very careful how he related to other station staff. But when it seemed Elsever was getting bored with their never-quite-consummated liaison, he knew he had to do something.