The Powers of the Earth (Aristillus Book 1)

by Travis J I Corcoran

  John switched his attention back to the left of the split screen. The PK ship was still hanging in the black, but something had changed in the two seconds he'd looked away. The ship was rolling slowly to one side - and its miniguns were gone. Chewed away by Gamma's fire? Jesus. With that many anti-aircraft guns, yeah, maybe so.

  As the ship rolled the bridge came into view and John saw that it was pockmarked and blackened. All that - just from a few seconds of incoming fire. Holy shit. How much mass was Gamma throwing into the target?

  The ship slid out of frame, and then jerked back in.

  The ship was falling, and Gamma's cameras had to pan to keep up.

  John cleared the video from his overlay and stared at the ship over Zhukovskiy with his own eyes. Not only was the ship falling, it was accelerating.

  Back to the video.

  As the ship dropped it was coming closer to Gamma's guns, and that seemed to help Gamma's targeting accuracy. Holes appeared all over the ship in larger and larger numbers.

  "John, I've computed the ship's impact point. I'll lose a few more solar cells and rovers, but those are easily replaced. The long-duration biosphere shelter I constructed for you and the Dogs should be spared in the impact."

  John nodded wordlessly.

  Gamma's camera panned down, leaving the ship behind, and focused on ground facilities: pipes, conveyor belts, row after row of kilns and presses and shapes of obscure purpose. And then a blue of motion. The ship hit - and splashed. Splashed. Hundreds of thousands of pounds of steel disappeared and sprayed like a water balloon hitting concrete. There were a few brief electrical arcs as the ship's flywheel battery packs dumped their energy - and then nothing. The space that had earlier held machine equipment was now scrubbed clean, bare rock littered with just a few small piece of metal.

  Duncan's voice came over the radio. "Jeez. Explosions look a lot cooler in the movies!"

  Over the radio? Damn it, Duncan had just broken radio silence.

  John turned, angrily. He repeated the finger-to-lips gesture, pointed at the second ship hovering over c-177, and then eyeballed Duncan and added a decidedly unofficial finger-across-throat warning.

  John looked again at the second ship, and made more hand signs.

  – follow me – hurry –

  He walked away from the crater lip. The Dogs and mules followed.

  Chapter 96

  2064: Living Room, 2nd Floor of the White House, Washington DC, Earth

  The President threw an arm over the back of the sofa and laughed at her friend Corecia's joke. There was a knock on the door. Her expression soured. "Excuse me, girls."

  She looked over her shoulder and called out, "Yes?"

  The door opened and an aide let himself in. "Madam President, I've -"

  "The upstairs is my residence, and I'm not to be interrupted."

  "I know, ma'am, but you didn't answer your phone."

  "That's because I'm busy." She tapped the rim of her wine glass with a fingernail of her left hand.

  "Yes ma'am. There's been a development, and we need you down in the Situation Room."

  "What is it?"

  The aide's eyes flitted to Corecia and Linsy, then back to her. "Ma'am, I can't -"

  "Spit it out. These women are my friends. My personal friends."

  The aide froze and his eyes swiveled back and forth between the president's friends and the slate he clutched in his sweaty hands.

  Themba fixed him with a stare. "Stop wasting my time."

  "The Paul-Henri Spaak is down."

  The Paul-Henri Spaak? That was one of the ships in General Bonner's fleet. But the invasion of the expats' little warren wasn't for couple of days.

  "'Down'? What the hell does that mean?"

  "The lunar colonists shot the ship down. Somehow."

  Corecia's eyes widened. "You're invading the moon? Girl, that's bad!"

  Themba waved it away. She was focused on her aide now. "They shot it down? Shot it? With guns? I want Richards to explain where the hell they got guns!"

  "Richards, ma'am?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Whoever's running BATFEEIN. Jesus."

  "Jim Gaunce."

  "I want to talk to Gaunce. Right now."

  "Yes, ma'am, I'll call him in a moment, but the important thing is that we need you in the Situation Room. The ship is down and General Bonner is afraid that the colonists will seize it. We've got Bonner, Opper, and Restivo coming over from the Pentagon right now." As if to punctuate the aide's comment, she heard a chopper landing out front. The aide had heard it too - he looked over his shoulder. "Ma'am, we really need you in the Situation Room."

  Themba turned to her two friends and gave them her best smile. "I'm sorry; I really do have to deal with this." She sighed theatrically and raised her eyebrows. "It's always something, right? You two stay here and make yourselves at home, and I'll be back as soon as I can." She turned to the aide. "Let's go."

  * * *

  Themba looked at the general. "Why is the ship even there? I thought the invasion wasn't for two more days?"

  "Any military operation is a sequence of steps. In this case, we started a week ago - degrading their orbital infrastructure, inserting our com and spy satellites in place, sending recon to make sure that there are no surprises." He grimaced. "As it turns out, there was a surprise. Our robotic probes over the past few weeks didn't see anything. But the Paul-Henri Spaak and the Oswaldo Aranha found a secret expat facility." He paused. "Several, actually. Big industrial operations hidden on Farside."

  Themba shook her head. These DoD idiots. "How did your probes miss that?"

  "We don't know, ma'am. We've got a team reviewing the image intelligence now. But the important thing is that we've got a ship down, and we need to -"

  She spoke to her aide. "I still want to talk to Jim Gaunce about the gun thing. Get him here." She turned to Bonner. "How long since the expats shot the ship down?"

  Bonner looked at the clock. "Thirty-nine minutes."

  Themba tapped her fingers on the table for a moment. "What are we facing? What's the worst case scenario?"

  "We've got one ship down, and one in overwatch. The crash looks bad, but we've got some telemetry still transmitting from subsystems in the wreck. It's possible that there are survivors, but I wouldn't bet on it."

  "If there are survivors they could take prisoners. What else happens if they seize the ship?"

  "We don't know if the cryptography hardware self-destructed or not. It's designed to -"

  "How many prisoners might they take?"

  "We don't know that there are survivors -"

  "How bad could it be?"

  Bonner blinked. "Bad, ma'am?"

  "How many survivors might there be?"

  "Again, we've got no indication of any. I'd bet on zero. But..."

  "Spit out."

  "It could be as many as twenty-five."

  Themba shook her head, imagining that. The photos - the video - would be terrible. And not just as expat propaganda. She winced even thinking about the ads the opposition could run.

  She turned to Don Rouse, her Chief of Staff. "Don, make sure that the expats can't seize the - what was it?"

  "Cryptography hardware."

  "Right. Make sure the cryptography hardware is safe."

  She looked around the table. "Is there anything else?"

  There was no answer.

  She stood. With a clatter the rest of the room pushed back their chairs and stood as she walked out the door.

  * * *

  General Restivo watched the president leave. As soon as the door closed behind her Don Rouse took control of the meeting. "OK, people. We need to destroy the downed ship. Capabilities first. Military: can we do this?"

  General Opper twisted his lips as he thought. "We've got coms to the wreck via relay satellites. The only question is if the scuttling charges survived the fall. They're designed to, but-"

  "Let's assume they did." Don turned to Gene Wilson. "Legal
. Are we going to get heat for this?".

  Restivo narrowed his eyes. They were worrying about legal justification? Now?

  "This is all joint with the UN, so no problems there." Wilson said. "Europe has been on board since we told them about this. The press could theoretically raise a stink about a nuclear detonation in outer space-"

  "Don't worry about the press. What about China?"

  Wilson shrugged. "Even if China wanted to object, Chairman Peng doesn't want us to make a stink about Hohhot, so he's going to keep his mouth shut. We're good."

  Don nodded to Alex D'Angeo. "Elections are coming - what are the optics on this?"

  "As long as there's no video - wait." A grin slowly spread over his face. "What if it's not our nuke, but the expats'? They initiated hostilities. Nuked one of our ships."

  Don thought about it for a moment. "Interesting idea, but hold it close for now. I've got to wargame it with a few other people."

  General Restivo gritted his teeth. He hated this part of Washington. The deceit. The calculation. Still, it wasn't his business.

  And then, before he realized it, he was talking. "Should we try one last time to see if there any survivors on the ship? Maybe the expats could -"

  Don looked at him coldly. "General Bonner said that there's zero indication of survivors."

  Bonner, next to him, cleared his throat, and made the smallest hand motion possible. Restivo got the message. Drop it.

  Don scanned the table. "So do we have any objections?"

  Restivo looked down at the table. No one else was going to object. And he realized that he had to keep his mouth shut too.

  Those stars were weighing pretty heavily on his shoulders these last few years.

  "OK, the clock is ticking - we don't want the expats to seize any equipment. Let's do it.”

  Chapter 97

  2064: just west of Zhukovskiy Crater, Lunar Farside

  John crouched behind a boulder a few meters back from the crater lip. The Dogs were hiding behind another two boulders to his left and the mules were crouched down behind an outcropping to his right.

  John verified that his laser com was still locked on to one of Gamma's relay rovers. "Still no reaction?"

  "No, John. It has been fifty-seven minutes and twenty-two seconds since the ship stopped descending and assumed position above the surface. I have asked it to depart multiple times but I have received no response."

  "Any other coms traffic?"

  "Yes. There have been repeated broadcasts between the ship and what I assume are relay satellites in lunar orbit. The traffic is encrypted."

  John tapped one finger against the boulder and then looked over his shoulder again. He'd prefer to be further away from the PK ship, but it would be stupid to break cover. He and the Dogs were here for a while longer.

  John turned back to the direction of the ship, wishing he could see through the boulder. He could, however, bring up one of Gamma's camera feeds. He did so, and saw the spacecraft hovering.

  "What sort of ships are they, Gamma?"

  "Most of the IFF data fields are encrypted, but comparing the visual profile against all entries in Jane's Fighting Ships database, they appear to be modified -"

  Gamma's voice died suddenly and the video feed ended with it. Was Gamma having some sort of video and audio processing glitch? Was the second ship attacking Gamma?

  There was a ping in his helmet as Max tried to talk to him over the laser coms, but John ignored it. Instead he rose from his crouch, risking a peek over the boulder. The second ship was still floating above the surface, where it had been for almost an hour - and it was brighter than it had been when he'd last looked. Much brighter.

  What was going on? Suddenly he had a chilling thought. He spun in place and faced Zhukovskiy, where Gamma's facility was, and where the first ship had crashed. His moment of panic passed. There was no growing sphere of superheated air, no mushroom cloud. He'd been insane to think it was a nuke. Why would the PK ships -

  But, wait. With no atmosphere there wouldn't be any of those effects, would there? No, if there was a nuclear detonation -

  John broke radio silence and yelled to all the Dogs at once. "Get down! Incoming shock -"

  And then it hit.

  The ground rolled and John staggered and fell. The mules and the Dogs, all blessed with more legs than he had, stayed on their feet. John was picking himself up off the ground a few seconds later when a second smaller shock wave hit and knocked him down again. He rolled to his stomach, pushed himself to his hands and knees - and decided to stay there. A few seconds passed with no more shocks and John climbed warily to his feet. Around him the Dogs were barking and shouting over the radio.

  He heard Blue yell, "John, look at the ship!"

  John turned to follow Blue's outstretched foreleg. The second ship had been caught in the glare of the exploding bomb and was now listing badly to one side as it descended to the surface.

  As the ship dropped, it came level with the rim of the Zhukovskiy-c-177's crater wall. A moment later it was below them and John was looking down on it. The deck-mounted auto cannons looked ominous and large. As the ship settled onto the gravel of the crater floor, the huge landing gear compressed.

  John looked at the chain guns and involuntarily took a step backward. The running lights on the ship shone brightly; it was wounded, but not dead.

  John started to call Gamma and then stopped. After that nuclear blast Gamma - or rather, the local instance of Gamma in Zhukovskiy - was certainly dead.

  And then it struck him.

  Gamma was dead. The relay satellites were dead. He and the Dogs were once again a thousand kilometers from the nearest friendly face, alone and unarmed. Except they weren't alone. They were facing a US/PK ship armed with chain guns and full of soldiers. And overhead there were enemy satellites.

  God help him, John felt alive.

  John made the "quiet" sign to the Dogs, positioned a remote camera on a rock and aimed it at the PK ship. He made more hand signs.

  – follow me – hurry –

  Then he turned from the ship and ran.

  * * *

  John watched the PK ship through the camera. Twelve armed and armored soldiers were on the ground in front of the Oswaldo Aranha. John felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead and then dribble down his face. It rolled into one eye and he tried to blink the sting away. The liquid-cooled underwear they all wore reacted to body temperature, but it couldn't detect or help sweat caused by nervousness.

  Twelve of the bastards, all armed with rifles - and presumably more inside the ship. Please don't let them figure out that we're up here.

  On the video one of the space-suited PKs looked down at boot tracks in the dust and tapped a second one on the shoulder before pointing.

  Shit. He aimed his laser at Blue. "Blue, take the mules and the guys, and fall back. Find some outcropping and get behind it. Don't use the radio. Don't do anything until you hear from me." John paused. "And for the love of God, don't -"

  "I'll keep Duncan quiet."

  John nodded. "And -"

  "I'll keep Max from doing anything stupid."

  Good. It was nice to have another adult in the group.

  Blue signaled to the others and they moved out, heading away from the lip of c-177 and the damaged PK ship. The mules followed the Dogs.

  John crouched behind the boulder and watched the action below via the remote camera. The troops on the surface had split up. Five headed west, away from Gamma's facility and back along the hikers' original path. Another group headed east toward the crack in the Zhukovskiy crater wall, following the highway of rover tracks in the dust.

  The final two soldiers, though - they were following the bootprints, heading straight toward the pile of scree that led up to where John and the Dogs were hiding.

  John felt his breath catch. He forced himself to breathe regularly. Be calm. Evaluate the situation. Figure out a plan.

  The soldiers were each armed w
ith rifles and he had nothing.

  What sort of plan was going to work against that?

  He kept looking at them. There was some weakness, something he could exploit. He just had to identify it.

  The two were armed...but they were also staring down at the ground as they walked. And their rifles were slung.

  John breathed in and out slowly.

  Alright. These aren't real soldiers, just PKs. Just two of them. Not a problem. Not. A. Problem.

  He could do this.

  John called up a satellite map of the area from cache and studied it, confirming his understanding of the local topography.

  He and the Dogs were in rolling terrain to the south of the southern wall of the mini crater Zhukovskiy-c-177. Thirty meters to the west, his left, was a taller outcropping that stuck up above the rest of the rim.

  He knew the ship was in the center of the crater, and he knew groups of PKs were moving east and west on the crater floor - and two more were moving south, right toward him.

  He took a second camera from his belt pouch, placed it in the dust and aimed it carefully, and then pushed himself into a low crouch. Moving quickly, he followed the trail left by the Dogs and the mules. Thirty meters to the south he came over a low rise and saw Blue and the others. For a second he thought about breaking radio silence - given that the wounded PK ship was blocked by the crater wall it might be safe - but better not to risk it. He stuck to laser.

  "Blue!"

  Blue spun. "John!"

  "Listen. I'm out of cameras. I need you to drop one right here. Point it back along the track." He gestured with his hand toward the direction they'd just come from. "Then get everyone and the mules further back behind that large boulder there - " he pointed a bit beyond the Dogs "- and hide."

  Blue nodded and took a camera from his belt.

  Max broke in. "The PKs are coming? We can take them."

  "No, stay down. There are two of them coming after us. I'm going to circle around and pick them off. Listen to Blue and stay hidden, because -"

  "I can help out. Let me -"