by Lee Correy
Sad, but only partly true.
“If Peter Rutledge is on our side,” I told Ali, “then he’s violating his RIO oath. And he certainly didn’t act like he’s taking sides.”
“Sandy, he was in his office,” Ali reminded me. “You’ve heard the old saw about quis custodiet…”
I thought about that one for several minutes. Finally, I said, “I guess Rutledge went as far as he could under the circumstances. You knew him previously, so it’s obvious you received a lot of signals I didn’t.”
“That’s right,” Ali replied simply. “When things get dicey, as Peter would put it, we can count on RIO.”
“How?” I wanted to know. “They’re un-armed.”
“So were you on the Topawa Airport railway platform,” Ali reminded me.
“Now you’ve got me worried, Ali ,” I admitted. “If you can suborn RIO, someone else can, too. Who else has gotten to them? My God, if they’re that susceptible to violating world trust…”
“They’re not capable of being suborned or even of violating their oaths,” he replied. “But Peter has some discretion concerning whether or not to make a public announcement of detected military activities on a powersat. He knows that I know that he won’t waffle. He’ll yell. He may yell in my direction first. He’ll do that even over the head of the RIO commander because Commandant Otasek will double-check and triple-evaluate the situation before making a public announcement. Otasek detests violence.”
“That’s a good trait for the RIO Commandant to have,” I interjected.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“A person who hates violence may be very reluctant to take action to prevent someone from being violent,” Ali observed pensively. “Commandant Otasek is likely to wait and hope the provocation will go away. He could wait too long. Rutledge won’t let him…I think. I hope.”
“What about our own powersats? RIO will be watching those, too.”
“They already are. But, Sandy, the Commonwealth doesn’t have any hell-beamers in orbit. The Tripartite Coalition nations do.” He watched the astrogation displays on the panel.
The computer was quietly working and reassuring us it was by continual status reports on peripheral displays. The space of the Earth-Moon system was full of moving objects. The ones of no concern to us were de-emphasized on the displays. There were military ships and stations and satellites among those targets, but nobody was shooting at one another.
There was peace in space.
There wasn’t peace on Earth. The comm/info net and the telenews broadcast a running stream of information on brushfire wars, guerrilla wars, terrorist raids, banditry, and piracy taking place all over the surface of the blue-and-white pie-in-the-sky in my left window.
Ali must have picked up something of what I was thinking because he suddenly went on, “Too bad, isn’t it, that fights take place earthside where a lot of people get killed rather than out here where very few people would get hurt?”
I shook my head. “No, Ali, if our forefathers had been smart, warfare would have stopped at the stratosphere.”
“You’re right. War is such an uneconomical, inefficient, and temporary way of trying to get something.”
“In the long run.”
“There is no other.”
“Convince the world of that.”
“We will.”
The display reminded me to get to work. “Time to earn our keep. We’re ready to rendezvous with Ell-Five…”
There was a message waiting for Ali when we got into the ComSpat module. He scanned the hard copy, then told me, “Vershatets wants a telecon. Gather the group, please, Sandy.”
Ursila was out-base on a run to Dianaport for a load of acceleration-sensitive blood fractions that couldn’t be tossed by a mass driver.
Omer was about to land the Toreva at Vamori Free Space Port.
Tsaya told me by telecomm from the Clinic, “I can’t release The General to the ComSpat module yet. Can you rig a conference circuit into the Clinic?”
Ali said no because there was no way to ensure a secure scramble with a remote through the Clinic’s facilities.
I was able to round up only Jeri Hospah.”It’s just the three of us,” I told Ali in the telecon compartment.
Ali shrugged. “I don’t know what it’s about, anyway.”
“What did the hard copy say?” Jeri wanted to know.
“Didn’t specify,” Ali replied.
“How was it signed?” I asked.
“Just Vamori, LandlimoCorp.”
“Which Vamori?”
“Could be any of them,” Jeri guessed.
“So we’ll be prepared for a full-dress Landlimo executive committee meeting, even though some of our group isn’t here.” Ali glanced at the time display. “Thirty seconds. Okay, Jeri, punch-up the net for us.”
The only person on the net earthside was Ali’s father, Rayo Vamori, who looked stern.
“Sorry to have put you to the trouble of getting together,” he said. “Ali, have you been having problems with comm links there?”
“Not that we know of. Jeri?”
Hospah shook his head. “Negative, chief. Space-to-space circuits are fine. Occasionally there’s some delay on the earthside nets. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“We’ve had considerable difficulty getting earth-to-space circuits,” Rayo Vamori told us.
“We believe there’s a reason for it. We’ve been able to get through only when we’ve identified as Landlimo Corporation, which is why I sent the hard copy message as I did. I need to speak to Ali. The rest of you may go, and my apologies if I took you away from something important.”
Ali scribbled on a note pad which he slipped unobtrusively to me. His note told us to get out of video range and stay silent. We did.
When it appeared to Rayo Vamori that the conference room was clear, he said to his son, “We need your grandfather back here immediately.”
Ali shook his head. “Doctor Stoak won’t let him travel yet. Father.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am.”
“How long?”
“A week. Perhaps longer.”
“Too long.”
“Why not Sandy Baldwin, Grandfather’s military deputy?”
“No, Baldwin isn’t fully committed and doesn’t have a depth of knowledge of the Commonwealth.”
“If you want military advice, why not call in the indunos of the impys?”
“They’re too close to their own military problems to grasp the overall picture. On the other hand, we aren’t military people and we don’t have the necessary background to handle some of the problems facing us. We need your grandfather.”
“Then you have no choice but to accept his deputy. I’ll certainly vouch for Sandy,” Ali told his father.
There was silence on the net for a moment. I couldn’t see Rayo Vamori’s face on the screen. Finally, Ali’s father spoke up again, “Very well, but to supplement Baldwin’s expertise, we’ll need your background in our space operations as well. The two of you should therefore come to Vershatets on the next available ship leaving Ell-Five.”
“Father! The RIO matter is critical at the moment! I must stay here!”
“Alichin, I am told the Tonolia is loading now at Ell-Five for departure to Vamori-Free.”
“But…”
“I can’t explain or give you reasons, Ali . You simply must do what I tell you.”
“What if I don’t comply, Father?”
“Alichin, requests can be discussed, but direct orders must be followed in any organization. This is a direct order. The Tonolia undocks in two hours, and you will be aboard her. There is no further discussion. I will see you after the Tonolia grounds.”
And without another word, the circuit was cut from earthside.
Ali was livid. “I’m not going!” he exploded.
I moved to his side. “Ali, I think you’d better.”
“Why?”
“H
as your father ever given you such a direct order?” I asked.
“Yes, once, many years ago when both Vaivan and I were seven, we decided we had the right to run our own lives and refused to go to bed one night.”
“That was a long time ago under different conditions,” I pointed out. “We’d better see what your father wants that’s so important he’d act as he did. Bump the Tonolia’s co-pilot, I’ll bump the pilot. We’ll go down together.”
“I’m not going.”
“We must. I’m not totally familiar with your Commonwealth customs yet, and certainly not with your family ways, but if you’ve never been given such a direct order as an adult by your father, there’s something going on that he can’t tell you even on a scrambled link. Whatever it is, it’s important. Stop being your usual stubborn self, Ali, and realize your father’s at least as smart as you are. He wants you earthside,” I told him, then added, “Don’t forget: this is war.”
Chapter 10
In the Heart of Vershatets
Things had deteriorated in the few days since I’d been to Vamori Free Space Port.
There was no such thing as an overall Space Traffic Control authority in those days.
Each space-faring nation had its own STC Center to handle ships that passed through the atmospheric interface over its national boundaries and entered its “official” national airspace at 100 kilometers altitude. International agreements had extended the individual authorities of these national STC’s upward through the low-Earth orbit zone to 25,000 kilometers. Geosynchronous orbit was in turn controlled by other national STC’s located in GEO, and their volumes of authority were determined by other international agreements because various nations had “preferred locations” where they had their metsats, comsats, and powersats. Beyond GEO, three other STCs controlled sectors 60-degrees in width centering at L-5, the Soviet-dominated L-4 sector, and the Lunar STC Center at Dianaport which was operated by Equadorians, West Irians, and Swiss, again as a result of international agreements hammered out on the anvil of green felt-covered tables in Geneva and Singapore.
Threading one’s way through this maze made space flight a challenge even in times of calm because there’s always some person/computer who doesn’t get the word. The system works 99.9 percent of the time, but there isn’t a space jock, military or civilian, who hasn’t tangled with the “Tenth-Percent Law” at least once.
Given the situation with the Commonwealth and about twenty other small nations telling the rest to stuff it up their nozzles with a purge pipe, the system was suddenly very sporty.
We ran into no deliberate delays, but everybody operated exactly and precisely according to their version of the book.
No matter what the system or device is, if it’s run by the book or the rules all the time, either it’ll become so confused it’s worse than no system at all, or it’ll bend something.
Our undocking from L-5 went on schedule. Then we hung dead in space for forty-two minutes until the computer system found a slot for us down the right corridor. “Computer error.” Our destination code showed as DP instead of VP and the computer had cleared us to Dianaport instead of Vamori-Free.
Eurosynch Center claimed our beacon was faulty when we entered their sector and made us change codes. But the temporary code wasn’t the one anticipated for us when we entered StarBase One Center in LEO, and we were verbally challenged by AmSpace Command as an intruder. We got that straightened out. Wichita Center vectored us into a 200-kilometer inclined holding orbit because of outbound traffic from Guyana, but the orbit was phased so we had to either expend a lot of delta-vee to get into Vamori-Free or wait for six orbits. We elected to expend the propellant, which in turn put us in a non-standard approach.
This grand tour was topped by the fact that nobody told Vamori STC Center or Vamori Approach. Communications had been deteriorating since Alichin walked out of the Santa Fe Conference. Vamori Approach cleared the Tonolia for landing on Runway Nine-zero, Area Seven-three. We had to set up for an unusual approach from the southwest. Our non-standard approach took us through the airspace of Malidok who didn’t appreciate sonic booms or an unanticipated passage through their sovereign airspace. I think they shot an ASAT and missed, but I don’t remember because Ali and I were busy flying the screwed-up approach.
I manually flew the ship into the landing system capture circle and had to take her the rest of the way manually and visually. Something was interfering with the landing beam.
After all we’d been through, landing the Tonolia on Runway Nine-zero was a piece of cake. Once the Tonolia squatted on the runway, we were out of the clutches of a non-caring STC complex that somehow didn’t exactly seem to have our best interests at heart.
I was irritated by the general screw-up. “Dammit, Ali, is every ship coming and going from Vamori-Free having to put up with this crap?”
Ali shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to bitch to Vaya Delkot about it.”
The area boss driving the pickup van reported, “There’s an aerodyne waiting for you, Alichin. You’re to go directly to Vicrik.”
Ali looked at me. “You’re right, Sandy. Something’s afoot.”
“Quite so, Watson,” I replied, mimicking Peter Rutledge.
“Want to fly?” Ali asked as we debouched from the van at the waiting aerodyne.
“I’ve had all I can hack today. You fly. I’ll cheer.”
Ali settled in, powered up, and called traffic control. “Vamori Departure, Victor Mike Charlie Seven Zero Whiskey, Area Seven-three, ready for departure, request Victor Ten to Vicrik. And will you give me the latest Vicrik hourly sequence, please?”
“Victor Mike Charlie Seven Zero Whiskey, this is Vamori Departure. Vicrik reporting one thousand broken, ten thousand high thin scattered, wind zero eight zero at one five. Caution advised for moderate to severe icing on the eastern slopes of the Dilkons at three thousand and above. Lenticular clouds reported over the ridges. Mountain peaks may be obscured. Moderate to severe turbulence reported five hundred meters above terrain.
Intermittent light rain in the Vicrik and Dekhar areas, scattered snow showers reported in Tewahk and Sedamu passes. Ready for clearance?”
“Typical March weather,” Ali muttered and replied, “Seven Zero Whiskey, ready to copy.”
The clearance appeared on the display. “Departure, Seven Zero Whiskey, query,” Ali transmitted.
“Go.”
“We show cleared Victor Ten, Oidak, Victor Fourteen, Dekhar, Victor Eight, Vicrik.”
“That’s affirmative.”
“Why the deviation?”
Pause. “Oidak Center says security reasons and take it or leave it.”
“Cancel! We’ll go visual Victor Ten direct Vicrik!” Ali snapped, obviously angry. I wasperplexed, too, because I’d never had any clearance offered take-it-or-leave-it.
“We don’t advise that, sir. Aeronote Delta Seven restricts uncleared flight within twenty-five kilometers of the Oidak rectenna. Uncleared aircraft will be intercepted.”
“Ali,” I said, “take the clearance. Sounds like the Commonwealth’s on alert status. We’ll find out when we get to Vicrik. Let’s get there and bitch later.”
He sighed. “Departure, Seven Zero Whiskey confirms and accepts clearance.”
“Roger. Seven Zero Whiskey cleared for lift, climb and maintain two thousand, heading two-one-zero to join Victor Ten, expect five thousand ten minutes after lift.”
Earth has something that space does not: weather. It was a cruddy day in the Commonwealth. We popped in and out of scattered clouds at two thousand meters until we were cleared to five thousand. That put us above it but underneath a thin layer of cirrus.
“Typical spring weather,” Ali remarked. “The intertropical convergence zone begins to shift north about March first and the South African thermal low breaks down. Our normal northerly winds aloft shift anticlockwise until they’re southwesterly in June. This time of year we get a shear line with moisture pu
mped up the eastern slopes of the Dilkons. Our rainy season. Lasts about three Krick cycles until the summer pattern becomes established. Things will begin to get nice again in May. But we need the rain to keep our impoundment reservoirs full for the irrigation net. We get three growing seasons on the Toak Plains because of it.”
The flat Toak Plains below us were partially hidden by a broken layer of low clouds. Our flight plan took us over the seemingly endless kilometers of lush farmland until I saw the broad, gleaming expanse of the Commonwealth’s powersat rectenna glistening in the sun a few kilometers beyond the city of Oidak. The blue Dilkon Range became visible through the haze. Following flight plan, we swung north along Oidak Lake and up the valley of the Dekhar River, turned southward at Dekhar Nav, and made a bumpy let-down through the broken clouds into the high Vicrik Valley.
Even with the lousy weather, the Vicrik Valley was verdantly gorgeous. Some 2500 meters above sea level, it was surrounded on the east, south, and west by mountains soaring up to 3500 meters. Towering over Vicrik on the west were the jagged spires of Mount Doradun, its treeless summit poling through the cloud decks into the sunlight.
The town of Vicrik was on the southeast shore of a man-made lake that filled a large portion of the valley. I got the impression this was a major Commonwealth resource area because I spotted power lines, hydro plants, railways, mine tipples, saw mills, and paper mills. It was also one of the best winter sports areas in the world.
Ali took manual control over Vicrik Nav and flew to where a cluster of buildings was visible among the evergreens up against a granite massif.
“Vershatets,” Ali pointed it out to me.
“Another family compound?” I wondered.
Ali shook his head. “Old word meaning ‘mountain keep’ or ‘castle.’ Emergency headquarters for every Commonwealth firm. Portions are leased to Commonwealth Defense as a first-line command post.”
“Ali, there aren’t enough buildings for that,” I observed as he set the aerodyne down ona landing stage.
“See that granite cliff? They took three billion tallys of gold out of that mountain before the lode petered-out. A holo of the complex shows more than a hundred kilometers of tunnels under there.”