“That will not be possible,” he eventually replied. “We are speaking of a key strategic asset, and one we dare not hand over.”
“An asset you don’t appear to be doing anything with,” Logan replied.
“Nevertheless, the Council is resolute in this matter.”
Finally, he’d caught Tolxac out in an obvious lie, though an understandable one. The argument had lasted long enough that it was apparent that no real unity existed on the Council, though he could understand why they would want to show it.
“Perhaps, Captain,” Tolxac continued, “once the war is over, we might be in a position to provide you with the specimen for examination.” He leaned back and said, “We can perhaps be more honest. Lieutenant Curry indicated that you would find this planet a valuable way-station, a key strategic position. We understand our worth.”
“There are other systems we can use, if we must. Don’t think we’ll exchange trading rights for a war.” In fact, Marshall was concerned that some of the politicians might be willing to do just that, especially in a war between humans and obviously-xenocidal aliens. It wouldn’t be a difficult sell to the voters.
“We can provide much in return for your alliance. Our shipyards would make us a valuable trading partner, especially once we have mastered the secrets of the hendecaspace drive; our experiments are showing significant progress. We have a mature spacefaring culture, ready and able to expand out into this system and others.”
“And we, Tolxac, have what are by your standards overwhelming economic and military force on our side. We can use you, but we don’t need to use you. Nor are we mercenaries that you can hire to fight for you.”
He recoiled, and said, “I did not mean to imply…”
Frowning, Logan looked at one of the murals again, another stylized image of a colony ship leaving a world. He shook his head, then turned to Tolxac.
“I know it is not germane to our conversation, but what exactly does that picture represent?”
Relieved to see the topic changed to one he was more comfortable with, Tolxac replied, “It is a reminder of the world we left behind. Our ancestors settled this planet long ago, in a ship that was a genetic ark. That was our origin, a shining jewel in the darkness, that one day we will return to.”
Looking at the backdrop, Marshall asked, “The starfield, is it accurate?”
“It is copied from the few original records we retained after the Dark Age.”
Pulling his datapad out of his pocket, he called up images of Tombstone, and the stars surrounding it. He held up the pad to point its camera at the mural, and waited a moment for the computer to try and match it.
“Ninety percent,” he said. “Your ancestors were pretty accurate, Tolxac.”
“What do you mean?”
Sliding the datapad across the table, Marshall said, “We found your homeworld. What’s left of it, in any case. The planet had been well and truly destroyed by some sort of attack, less than a thousand years ago. Is that in any of your legends?”
“No, no,” he replied. “Our homeworld was lush, verdant, a paradise. Our culture strong and prosperous, ready to leap out across the stars.” He looked up, and said, “Are you sure it was deliberate? Not a catastrophe?”
“Not according to our analysis, no. I’m certain we could arrange a visit for some of your people in the near future; we’ll definitely have ships going out this way.”
Standing up, Tolxac showed the image to the Council and began to shout, gesturing around, pointing at Marshall and then at the mural on the wall. What he had hoped would be bargaining chip was turning into something rather more serious.
“Our meeting must come to an end for the present, Captain,” he said. “Could we have a recess for an hour or so? We will see to the comfort of you and your men in the interim.”
Glancing across at Cunningham, he nodded, replying, “Certainly.”
“Then in that case,” he said, gesturing to the door. Marshall and the others rose, walking out of the room, back into the friendly standoff between the Espatiers and the guards. Once the doors closed, Cunningham turned to Marshall.
“I’m not sure that was such a good idea.”
“We knew that a ship had escaped the system before the catastrophe. Frankly, I’d expected that it was them.”
“Are you sure about the timing of that ship?” Logan asked.
“As sure as we can be. Certainly the dates don’t add up.”
“Does it matter? We’ve got a problem right now to deal with,” Cunningham said.
One of the guards pointed them towards a waiting room, lined with wooden chairs, more impressive murals on the wall. He almost tripped over Cooper as he walked past him, then took his place once again in the corridor.
“We’re information gathering,” Logan said. “I don’t think we can make a snap decision, and I’m not sure we need to. I take it you didn’t believe their denials either?”
“Not for a second,” Marshall said. “They’re trying to force our hand, to make us choose them over their enemy. That riot was just one more attempt to impress us. If a couple of us had been captured by some sort of civilian group, what would we have done?”
“If I’d been left alone?” Logan asked. “Probably launched a raid to get you back, doubtless with the kind co-operation and assistance of the civilian government. Following which we would have been in their debt. Assuming it had worked, which I doubt.”
“What all of this confirms to me is that they are desperate,” Cunningham said. “This isn’t that different from some of the things we tried to bring the Lunar Republic into the war, or the Belters, for that matter. I’m quite willing to concede that they are fighting for their survival.”
“I agree,” Logan said. “What this does provide us with is a little leeway, but we all know what decision the politicians will make. If they send the task force, then elements of it will pass this way and deal with this problem, one way or the other.”
“Your recommendation, John?”
“A negotiated cease-fire that gives Haven control of the local hendecaspace points and their orbital space, protected with an orbital defense network. We’d install and protect it in exchange for basing rights on a space station we could put up in orbit. It seems reasonable.”
“I’d want to try and open communications of some sort with the aliens,” Logan said, “but I agree with John. The Senate would go for it, the Admiralty would go for it, and it…”
Marshall’s communicator chirped, and he reached for it, “What’s up?”
“Caine, sir. We’ve got a problem. Our long-range sensors are detecting a fleet build-up. The Enemy are marshaling maybe two hundred, two hundred and fifty spacecraft. That’s more than three-quarters of their presence in local space.”
“No exact figures?”
“I’d guess there is some deception play here. The whole thing could be a ruse of some sort, but I’m not sure I’d like to bet on it. The kicker is this – if they are planning an attack, it will be in less than three days time, before we can leave the system.”
“What about the Buchanan?” Cunningham asked.
“You could get out in time,” Caine said.
“That might not be a bad idea,” Logan replied. “Send a small crew away with all your intelligence. Whatever happens, that has to make it home.”
“You want to command it?” Marshall asked.
Shaking his head, Logan said, “I’d rather see this one through to the end, if you don’t mind. I’ve already missed most of the fun.”
Speaking into his communicator again, Marshall said, “Keep monitoring. Do you think the Haven forces will have picked it up yet?”
“I can’t see how they’d have missed it, but I can check.”
“Not yet. Keep monitoring for the moment, and start coming up with some contingency plans to fig
ht them off.”
“That number would push us badly, Danny. We’d have to take off the gloves completely, and even then I can’t make any guarantees.”
“I’ll be up shortly. Marshall out.” Looking at the others, he said, “My guess is that we’re going to be called back into the conference room by a rather nervous guard in a moment.”
There was a knock on the door, and Cooper walked in, frowning, looking at Logan, “Sir, I’ve got something that I think is meant for you.” He slipped a piece of paper into his hands.
Looking down at it, Logan’s eyes widened, and he looked across at Marshall, “You’re going to need to excuse me from the rest of the meeting, and I need to borrow Ensign Cooper. I can’t say any more.”
“Is this important?” Marshall asked.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was.”
There was a knock at the door, and Tolxac walked in, saying, “Captain, the situation has changed. We need to speed up the pace of our negotiations.”
“I’m aware of that,” Marshall replied. “Captain Cunningham and I will be with you in a minute.” He glanced across at Logan, and said, “Do what you have to do. Just don’t be too long about it; we’re running out of time.”
Chapter 14
Logan and Cooper stepped out of the Council chambers into the maze of corridors outside; rather than the open spaces that Triplanetary settlements enjoyed, Haven had taken the ant hive as its model for urban planning; the pyramid was filled with tunnels and rooms, few of which seemed to be used for their original purposes. A figure was waiting outside, glancing up at them as the approached, gesturing with his eyes for them to continue down the corridor.
With a shared glance, they did as they were bid, cautiously moving into the curious crowd. There were no cries, no gathering mobs, just mild curiosity; the people were all wearing the same drab gray outfit, an adaptation of the jumpsuit worn by the orbital defense force, and Logan especially looked resplendent by comparison in his Triplanetary dress uniform.
Another figure caught Logan’s eyes, gesturing down a side corridor, and they pressed on into the shadows, drawing away from the crowd. With a few cautious glances, Logan established that no-one incompetent was following them, but he still reached down towards his gun, conscious that this could easily be a trap.
Another turn, and a pair of dangling wires brushed past his shoulder; he looked up to see the remains of a camera pickup, then back to see four burly men stepping out ahead of them, blocking their path. They looked different to the others, moving with more determination, and headed to their sides, two of them passing across blindfolds.
“I don’t like this,” Cooper said.
“I don’t much care for it myself. Nevertheless, we’d better go along with it.”
Logan tied the blindfold on, taking care to leave a small gap for him to look down the sides of his nose, and followed the footsteps ahead of him. He felt an arm on his shoulder, guiding rather than forcing, and took the twists and turns as best he could. At one point there were steps going down, later a ramp heading up again; eventually he counted six minutes in his head before they stopped, and the blindfolds were hastily jerked off, a bright light shining in his face.
They had somehow reached the top of the pyramid, and were standing in front of a view of the jungle outside. From this height, he could make out ruins outside, the crumbling remains of buildings that the vegetation had all but destroyed. Behind him, a tall figure walked, one footstep harder than the other, and Logan turned to face him.
He was wearing a clean jumpsuit, his right arm obviously artificial, far cruder than the medical technology he would have received in the Confederation. Noting Logan’s interest, he tapped the fake limb, producing an echoing ring.
“Lost in the service of my people, more fool I. After a fashion, I can use it. More than many of our veterans can manage; I was fortunate enough to be wounded before I had permanently adapted to zero-gravity.”
Frowning, Cooper said, “They don’t rotate their space-side personnel?”
“Of course not. That would be inefficient, might cost us the war.” He laughed, a hollow barking noise that echoed around the room, and continued, “Besides, few enough of them live long enough for that to be a problem.”
“No armband,” Logan noted, “but you seem to speak our language well enough.”
“My parents raised me in that crazy cult, but I opted out as soon as I could. Recent events have compelled me to brush up my language skills, and I have had some excellent tuition of late to assist me.”
“Your note said you had something that belonged to us,” Logan said. “Where?”
“In a moment,” he said. “The package is on its way. Look out there, first.”
“I saw the ruins.”
“All that is left of our once-proud civilization. We retreat into these dunghills, hiding like rats, in the mistaken belief that this would protect us from an attack. Nonsense. All this does is make it easier to control the population, keep them all penned up. Once our city spread out across five miles of countryside. Now all that remains are these three pyramids.”
“The population out to be spread out more,” Cooper said. “Decentralization…”
“I agree with you. Not that there has been any serious attempt at orbital bombardment, not for years, anyway. I don’t think there ever will be.”
“The aliens are massing for an attack,” Logan replied. “The final one that might overwhelm your defenses.”
“And at last this wretched war might come to an end.” He smiled, then said, “It was not the peace faction that attacked you. They would not be so foolish.”
“I presumed it was the government. Politicians are rarely noted for their common sense.”
“I see that we have that in common. Tell me, have you been able to speak to anyone outside the cult? Do you know about the pogroms?”
Logan’s eyes widened, and said, “The cult…”
“Has been persecuted for centuries, until the arrival of the Dumont. Suddenly it seemed as if they had all the answers, and they are trying to win the war before anyone realizes that they just got lucky. There is a battle for control of this planet, but there are more factions than just the people of Haven and the aliens.”
“You said you had something for us?” Cooper replied.
“Indeed I do.” He turned, said something to another man, and a woman stumbled up, dirty blonde hair sweeping over the shoulders of her red uniform – her Martian uniform. She looked at the two officers and snapped to a salute.
“Private First Class Traci Moore, sir. Latterly of the Battlecruiser Hercules, then of the Scoutship Dumont.”
Cooper looked across at Logan and reached for his communicator, only to have his hand blocked by the older man, who shook his head.
“Captain Marshall has to know,” the Espatier stressed.
“He does, but not right now, not while he is in a room with the Council surrounded by guards. Do you want to have to shoot your way out of this city, Ensign?” He looked at Moore, and asked, “Are there any more?”
“No, sir. I was the only one in my escape pod.”
“They don’t know where she is,” the man said. “Though they have been hunting her down long enough.”
“Cooper, I want an Espatier uniform. Get one of your guards down to the transport, get his clothes, then get back up here with them on the double. Try and find someone about the same size.”
“Should I tell anyone?”
“Not until we get out of here. If Marshall or Cunningham ask what is going on, tell them I’ll explain everything later. Move.”
“One of my people will escort him,” the man said, issuing instructions in the local language. “It will take a little time, but we are safe here. Any guards that tried to enter this area would have no opportunity to collect their retirement stipen
d.”
“I’ll be back soon,” Cooper said, jogging out of the room, taking one last glance back at Moore and Logan. Once he had gone, Logan looked back at Moore.
“Right, Private. What’s your story. From the top.”
“The Dumont, sir?” she asked.
Shaking his head, he replied, “They didn’t make it.”
She looked down at the ground, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, then back up at Logan, who said, “I know it hurts. I know. Right now I need to know what the hell happened when you arrived in the system.”
Looking up at him, she nodded, took a deep breath, and replied, “We’d had a pretty boring run until we got here, then we were attacked on our arrival, our ship damaged. Curry ordered us into orbit, and some of the locals offered to help us with our repairs.”
“Then what happened?”
“They were taking longer and longer, and we realized they were copying the technical information, especially with regards to the hendecaspace drive. Curry had it out with them about it, and then there was another attack, and we were damaged again.” She looked up, and said, “Is there help here? Anyone at all?”
“The Battlecruiser Alamo is currently in parking orbit.”
“Thank God,” she said. “They said that they needed to use our ship to help them win their war, that they were desperate, under attack. That none of us would be harmed. Then they stripped out components of the hendecaspace drive.”
Looking over, the man said, “That’s about when we came into the picture.”
“Who are you, anyway?” Logan asked.
“My name is Gaxric. Once I commanded an orbital task force, now I command what passes for the underground down here. We made contact with Lieutenant Curry, and offered to provide some assistance. It was a complicated campaign, but we managed to smuggle out some replacement hendecaspace components, and get them up to the Dumont.”
Shaking his head, Logan said, “What happened next, Private?”
“We were all back on the ship to help train a new crew. We were undermanned, and they were hoping to duplicate the design. I saw their orbital workshops, Captain. They’re up to the job if they have templates to follow.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Ghost Ship Page 14