James Wittenbach - Worlds Apart 07

by Yronwode

  “May I see the telemetry data,” Alkema requested. “If it is an energy barrier, maybe there’s a way to jam it.”

  Steadfast shook her head. “I can not give you the telemetry we received before they were destroyed. It’s part of the classified reports.” Alkema pushed. “I think I’ll need to see those.”

  “I don’t think they will release those,” Steadfast said.

  Alkema scowled at her. “If they really want us to exchange technology with them, I think it would be a lot better if they did.” Yronwode – Xenthe

  Max Jordan, Johnny Rook, and most of the other crew were stuck in the rooms the Midians had provided for them. They were sufficient, but hardly plush, consisting of dormitory style rooms, each containing two bunks and a desk. Later, they would learn, this was a wing of a low-security jail built to house Xirong who had violated their work contracts.

  They had been left to wonder what was going on with the commander and Alkema. They had heard nothing except that Zilla had possibly crashed after leaving the city.

  As they sat around a table in a common area, drinking fruit juice and eating snacks, Caliph projected herself into Max Jordan’s Spex display, taking the form of a well-built, pale-white woman, about his own age, with glowing blue eyes that matched a fringe of blue around her straight black hair. “This is kind of boring, so far.”

  “Yeah, it tends to be boring when there’s nobody shooting at us,” Max Jordan confirmed.

  “Excuse me?” Johnny Rook asked, not realizing who Jordan was talking to.

  “Oh,” Max Jordan pointed to his helmet. “Caliph loaded herself into my gear.” Johnny Rook blinked at him. “Is that a good idea?”

  “Probably not,” Max Jordan told him.

  Caliph accessed the communication frequency of Johnny Rook’s headset and gave him a piercing shriek in the ear before speaking. “I can improve the accuracy of his tactical gear’s sensors and targeting systems. And, I can access adjacent systems to access additional data.”

  “Such as?” Johnny Rook asked.

  “Such as the fact that you missed three listening devices when you swept the room earlier,” Caliph told him, transmitting their coordinates to Johnny Rook.

  Rook checked his Spex display. “I’ll get right on those.”

  “I thought it was going to be more exciting than this,” Caliph reiterated.

  Yronwode – Xenthe Security Base Four

  The Midians found David Alkema a cubicle, and within it, he laid out maps (static imagery printed on sheets of some kind of plastic.) He used some kind of chemical marker to isolate the most likely crash sites for Commander Keeler’s Aves, based on pure speculation about the point at which the Aves was brought down, coupled with further speculation about its descent course.

  He had hoped that Blade Toto had salvaged enough control of the ship to bring it down some place where the commander would have access to shelter from the heat and maybe water (in case the ship’s reserves were lost or contaminated). Then, Major Constant had advised him that anywhere in the Wilderness of Howling Zeal where there was water, there was also likely to be Xirong. And if the Xirong captured them, the crew would be beaten, tortured, and held for ransom… if they were lucky.

  And in the meantime, he waited while the Security Ward and the Ward of Externalities danced around the issue of getting permission from the Xirong to search for survivors. Frustrated with the lack of progress, he sat down in the chair the Midians had provided him, closed his eyes, and tried to reset his mind.

  He was interrupted by Captain Steadfast. “Commander Alkema,” she said, not having gotten the hang of Odyssey Project ranks. “I know this is not a good time, but since you are effectively your people’s leader, we need to talk.”

  “What about,” Alkema asked without opening his eyes.

  “It is very probable that you and your people will be hear for a prolonged stay,” she said. “The High Council wants to know if you will be in need of accommodations.

  Those provided so far were only intended as temporary.”

  “We can sleep in shifts in our ship,” Alkema said. Accommodations were not high on his mind.

  “No, that would be inhospitable of us. The High Council has offered to find places for your people to stay. We think the best place may be one of our forward security bases.”

  Now, Alkema opened his eyes. “You want to confine us to a military base. Do you consider us a threat.”

  “No, Commander Alkema, we are concerned about the threat to you,” she told him. “You would be a highly valued target to the Xirong. They may try to kill or kidnap one of your people. We do not want that to happen. We would not impede your freedom of movement within Xenthe. But when you sleep at night, it should be in an area where we can protect you.”

  “Okay, do whatever you have,” Alkema told her. “When Lear and Driver get hear, I’ll have them pack up the ship and move us to…” As they were talking, Trajan Lear was led to his cubicle by a pair of stern-faced security guards. “Lt. Cmdr. Alkema, I’m reporting to you as ordered.” Alkema dismissed Steadfast, and addressed Lear. “Sit down, Traj. You’ve been briefed?”

  “The Prime Commander’s ship is down. That’s all they told me.”

  “Where’s Flight Captain Driver?”

  Trajan Lear sighed. “Captain Driver in the All Saints Temple, undergoing Atonement. They won’t allow him any outside contact until he’s finished.”

  “He’s undergoing what?” Alkema snapped. Impatience was not a quality anyone had seen in him before.

  Trajan tried to explain. “We committed a lot of sins in the Chronos Universe.

  He’s probably going to be there for some time.”

  “I need someone to take Prudence up,” Alkema told him. “And I guess that’s got to be you.” He transferred to Trajan Lear the parameters of a search pattern he had worked out.

  Trajan studied them. “At this altitude, it will take hours, maybe days to scan the search area,” he said. “From 30,000 meters, I could scan the entire region.”

  “There’s a containment system around the planet,” Alkema explained. “Anything that gets above 10,000 meters gets shot down.”

  Trajan thought about this. “Well, that isn’t good,” he decided

  “Neg, it’s not,” Alkema said. “And we won’t have any air support from the Midians. Their Treaty with the Xirong doesn’t allow overflight, not even for search and rescue. It doesn’t apply to us though?”

  “Will the Xirong be shooting at us?” Trajan asked.

  “Probably, but their weapons aren’t very sophisticated. Besides, you’ll be using holoflage shields, so you should be pretty much undetectable.” Trajan seemed somewhat disappointed. “Damb, I really wanted to try out Prudence’s new self-protection suite. Does this mean we also can’t reach Pegasus?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So, we’re stranded here.”

  “After I figure out a way to communicate our situation to Pegasus, I’m going to figure out how we get off this rock.” Alkema sounded determined. This was a good thing. A determined Alkema had solved a lot of problems on previous missions.

  “Have you figured how we get a message to Pegasus,” Trajan asked.

  “I’m working on a way to contact them. It probably won’t work, and it will be extremely dangerous.”

  Trajan Lear could not help smiling at that. “Extremely dangerous, and probably won’t work. Usually, Matthew handles those, but, what the hell. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

  CHAPTER: 06

  Yronwode – Security Base Four

  Alkema, Major Constant, and a Midian-Xirong Liaison (a middle-aged man in a dull gray suit with a round white collar) were in communication with a Xirong Phalange Chieftain by the name of Goten. Because he held control over the largest Xirong city, New Babillon, Goten was the most powerful of the Xirong Chieftains. This was Alkema’s first look at one of the Xirong.

  Goten was a heavily built man with a ru
gged face and stringy black hair that hung down to the middle of his chest. Also, he was furious. He raged at them from the screen. “2,000 years of indignities! 2,000 years of occupation! 2,000 years of humiliation!”

  The Liaison endured this with dignity, and when Goten stopped for breath, the liaison calmly asked, “With respect, Goten, under what conditions would you permit a Search and Rescue overflight into your territorial jurisdiction.”

  “Normally, our people’s sovereignty is inviolable.”

  “There are extraordinary circumstances,” the Liaison stated with great calm and patience. “Our Council of State has given me broad latitude for negotiation.” Goten pounded on his table. “You insult us. Our Sovereignty is not on sale.”

  “We would never think otherwise. However, we recognize that permitting us to make such a flight would be a generous offer of goodwill on your part, and it would only be right that we would offer something of goodwill in return.” The liaison was a real weasel, but Alkema did not begrudge him this, under the circumstances.

  Goten paused, and his anger seemed to be replaced by avarice. Alkema could see his fingers rubbing together greedily in the monitor. “What goodwill gesture would you offer in return?”

  “What would earn your good will, Goten?” asked the liaison.

  Goten cast his eyes about the room, looking at his off-screen advisors. “For certain, we will see the Shield of Oppression on your northern border dismantled, and concerning the Tsi Bai. All shall be permitted free movement into Theocrat-occupied territory. That is not negotiable.”

  “You know as well as I do, Goten, that the Peace Shield’s status is under separate negotiation,” the Liaison said, betraying no agitation.

  “Liar! We know you lying liars have no intention of ever dismantling the Shield of Oppression,” Goten growled.

  “The Peace Shield will remain in place until all Xirong Phalanges renounce violence against Midian,” the Liaison said patiently.

  Goten launched into what Alkema sensed was a ritual denunciation. “Actings of violence the only language Theocrats understand. Violence the basis of your bad religion. Blood sacrifice demands your conceited magical sky-God. We will never bend to your Idols.”

  The liaison was quiet for a moment, and when he finally spoke, he said, “Goten, you are a wise and honorable man. You realize, certainly, that time is a critical factor, and even if the Peace Shield were dismantled, it would require many days to complete.

  So, what can my government do for you in the next day that would be appropriate recognition for your generous offer of the use of your airspace for our search and rescue operations.”

  “200 fuel rods,” Goten stated without ceremony.

  Major Constant cursed quietly. Alkema picked up that this was an impossible request. “The Xirong would like to use our fuel rods to produce radiological weapons,” Constant explained, quietly, to him.

  “Goten, the Midian High Council would never agree to exchange prisoners for fuel rods,” the Liaison said calmly.

  “Once again, Theocrats refuses us the basic needs of our lives. Without fuel rods so that they give us the force, millions of Xirong children shiver with the cold. Our medical installations cannot carry out surgical operations.…” Goten continued through a laundry list of Xirong tragedies caused by the lack of power and “Theocrat Oppression.”

  The liaison waited until Goten was finished before continuing. “In return for your cooperation, the government of Midian is prepared to provide fuel and technical support to restore the Number 2 power plant in New Babillon to operation. That would provide power to half of New Babillon.”

  Goten didn’t miss a beat. “We restore that plant ourselves, defy continuing sabotage of the Theocratic Entity, and withhold vital supplies…”

  “The Midian Government is prepared to be very flexible,” the Liaison said, placing just a little more emphasis than necessary on the word ‘flexible;’ a sort of verbal wink.

  “If Midian government is prepared to arrange in order to provide us with nothing, gives it for anything. There is nothing to negotiate. Goten, out.” The image of the Xirong vanished from the telescreen.

  “That didn’t seem to have gone well,” Alkema growled.

  “Goten had to put up a display for political reasons,” the Liaison told him. “He was obligated to refuse any offer we made him, and he knew his demands were impossible. If he had settled for anything less, his political opponents would call him weak and rise against him. It is exactly how he gained power against the previous Xirong Chieftain of New Babillon.”

  “So what happens now?” Alkema asked.

  “Privately, we will offer him several hundred thousand Talents in raw diamond, and he will give us a backdoor deal. That’s how these things usually work. It will take several days to work out the details though.”

  Several Days, Alkema thought. The commander probably didn’t have “several days.” But he knew, by this time, that arguing was fruitless.

  On to Plan B.

  Prudence

  The Aves Prudence was describing long ovals in the skies high above the Wilderness of Howling Zeal, which looked, from the cockpit, like nothing but an expanse of gray-brown sand occasionally broken by a spinal outcropping of jagged rock.

  Trajan spoke into his COM Link. “I have completed the scan of grid Alpha 6-4.

  Negative contact. Proceeding to Grid Alpha 7-1.”

  “Acknowledged, Prudence, ” answered David Alkema, back at the Midian Command Center. His response barely readable through the static. Even at maximum gain, Prudence’s comm systems could barely cut through the planet’s intense electromagnetic field. “Proceed to Grid 7-2.”

  Even through the electromagnetic distortion, Alkema sounded tired, and frustrated. Trajan knew what he was thinking. Minus the electromagnetic density of Yronwode’s atmosphere, and minus the scattering field put in place to guard the planet, locating the crash-site of the Aves Zilla would have been a matter of seconds, not hours. Never mind that without the planet’s security system, Zilla never would have crashed in the first place. He checked his head’s-up display. “Ground imagery scans are nominal. Resolution to one micron.”

  At resolution, the gray-brown sand showed itself to be strewn with gray-brown rocks of various sizes and occasionally some chunk of debris or refuse. Prudence, had, in the past hour, detected the wreckage of dozens of ground vehicle crashes, including one that spread over nearly a full square kilometer and included the remains of hundreds of vehicles. The Xirong, apparently, just let debris rest wherever it fell.

  But this particularly grid had nothing like that, just gray-brown sand strewn with gray-brown rocks. Trajan spoke into his COM Link. “I have completed the scan of grid Alpha 7-1. Negative contact. Proceeding to Grid Alpha 7-2.”

  “Acknowledged, Prudence, ” answered David Alkema, back at the Midian Command Center. “Proceed to Grid 7-2.”

  Grid 7-2 was a 10 kilometer by 10 kilometer patch of sand dunes near the edge of a dry ravine. And it was here that the scanners detected the distinct outline of an Aves Command Module and wingblade. Trajan double-checked the readings to be sure before contacting Alkema.

  Calmly, Trajan reported, “Midian Base, Prudence has identified Aves debris on the desert floor in grid Alpha 7-2. Relaying coordinates.

  In the background, Trajan could hear an animated discussion take place between David Alkema and two Midians he could not identify.

  Alkema: We’ve found debris in grid Alpha 7-2. That’s A-7-2. Here.

  Midian A: [Expletive Deleted!]

  Alkema: What [expletive]?

  Midian A: That is headhunter territory

  Alkema: Headhunter Territory? That can’t possibly be good.

  Midian A: It is, in fact, very very bad.

  Alkema: Why?

  Midian: Because it’s Headhunter Territory.

  Alkema: Right, Okay.

  Midian B: There is an upside?

  Alkema: An upside, what is it?
>
  Midian B: We have no treaty with the Headhunter Tribes. We can send rescue teams into that area with impunity.

  Alkema: I was expecting you to say something else, but I can work with that.

  Trajan broke in through his COM Link: “Do you want me to stay on target or return to base?” he asked.

  “We have the coordinates, could you make a low-pass and scan for life signs,” Alkema ordered him.

  Lear banked Prudence and made a long, slow dive toward the crash site. He passed over the debris at less than fifty meters. From here, the ship’s sensors were effective, and Lear could see the wreckage clearly. There was a gouge in the sand where Zilla had hit. The port wingblade was gone, and a trail of broken debris poured from the port side. The first licks of drifting sand were piling against the forward command deck. Of the Accipiter carried on the port wingblade, there was no sign. But, the one on the starboard wingblade was completely intact and appeared undamaged.

  “There’s at least one life sign on-board,” Lear confirmed. “Do you want me to land?”

  There was a very long pause. “Negative, Trajan,” Alkema said finally. “Standby

  …”

  A few minutes late, Alkema came back on the link. “The Midian Security Forces have a Search and Rescue Team prepped and ready for launch. Are you detecting any Xirong activity in the area.”

  “Stand by while I make a low-altitude sensor pass,” Trajan Lear told him, and he banked Prudence over and completed a long low pass of the surrounding sands.

  “Negative, I’m detecting no vehicles and no life signatures within a hundred kilometer radius of the crash site.”

  Alkema passed the information to the Midians, then came back on the link.

  “Thanks Trajan, return to altitude and keep the area covered until the search and rescue team arrives.”

  “Affirmative,” Trajan confirmed. He took Prudence back up to altitude and continued his slow orbit of the crash site.

  Xiyyon — Emissarial Complex of the Starcross