The feed dropped out and the screen turned to black.
“You heard the man!” William said. “Shay, Huron, lay it out, make sure those capsules will launch. They must have a few retired engineers in the mix.”
*
The face of Shin Xin wasn’t nearly as regal to stare at for three minutes. The space behind the Warden was a shabby wall with the curling growth of a whitish gray bacteria. Shin raised a dirty finger and scratched the side of his nose. He had the look of someone who walked into a conversation without knowing the beginning or end.
William sat as rigidly as he had with the Abbot and watched for a reaction. Any reaction. The legal situation with the prisoners was a bit unusual. On one hand, they were wards of the Core Corporation, but the web of ownership made it unclear who exactly had legal authority. William believed that he, the sole UC officer in the system, could authorize the release.
Shin squinted and his mouth opened, showing a row of yellow stained teeth. He nodded slowly without ever closing his mouth. “Uh.” He raised a finger and stepped away from the desk.
Shin called from off camera. “Well, if you say you’re the boss, then you’re the boss. But you should ask the inmates. Lemme feed it to the screen inside.”
A grime stained security camera dangled into view. A little red light poked on.
“Hi guys. This here is Captain Grace, he has something to ask,” Shin said.
Is this for real? he wondered. Prisoners. No use laying it on thick, time to make it count. “The Hun attacked Winterthur. I need people who can fight. You’ll earn your freedom when it’s all done. Full pardon.”
Shin walked across the view of the camera and a bulkhead opened and closed. Then he came back and gave a grimy thumbs up. He smiled. “They’ll do it. I think you had ‘em at fight. You mind if I come, too?”
William laughed a little. “Of course Mr. Xin, we’ll take anyone we can get. We’ll have the monastery move and dock. Garlic out.”
The screen turned to dark and the bridge returned to life. The crew was silent throughout the exchange. Now the taps of fingertips and the shuffling of feet proved that they were working.
“Ping the Abbot, tell him it’s a go.” William glanced up at the simulated plots and saw one choice after another play through. The statistical process drummed on through every possibility.
He liked the dance of numbers. He liked how sometimes the simulation proved everyone wrong and found a very unique solution. But mostly he liked that when you ran a program like this, you were going to get into a fight.
Mustafa. He looked up at the system plot and saw the data pulsing in from his orbital. Every time it orbited away from the scrutiny of the elevator complex and the Gallipoli ,it sent out a burst of data. It was choppy, rough, but it told him that the Gallipoli was there. Not docked, but waiting.
“Captain?” Huron asked over the comms.
“Go ahead,” William replied.
“Two things. One, the cell is done. We’re plum out of iridium binder. The other thing is, uh, we’re seeing some small scale delaminations in the hull armor.”
William licked his lips. The thought of the vacuum coming in sat with him right in his gut. “Get the weapons on board, I’ll come give a hand. Anything we can do about the hull?”
“Nope,” Huron replied with a pop. “But we should keep suits close.”
“Great,” Shay said.
“Finish the plots,” William said to Shay and Bryce, as he scanned the walls of the bridge.
The weapons rolled through in heavy carts normally used to shift minerals. They brought the carts to the edge of the airlock and passed each weapon through individually. One Marine stood at the edge of the grav field and tossed the weapons into the umbilical.
They sailed through the zero-g and were caught on the opposite side. Weapons lined every hall, door, and space where they would fit. In the zero gravity areas they were strapped to ceilings and floors. Even the meager crew quarters took on the look of an armory. Bulk bags of caseless ammunition slabs sat askew in every corner. “Enough ammo here for a helluva party,” Huron said to William.
The bridge crew settled on a course and they began a slow burn away from the asteroid station and farther into the debris field.
William stared at the course and traced the line with his eyes. A nudge around a sizable asteroid and then into the center of the system. He paused where two lines met. “How long after the monastery blinks will they know?”
Shay answered without looking up. “Seventeen minutes.”
Bryce whistled through the gap in his teeth. “Think they’ll know it’s not us?”
“Most likely, the signatures will be too different. Once they see that blink, they’ll come and chase. By that point, we’ll blink ahead of the monastery.”
Shay smiled. “And then we can finish this.”
Bryce darted his tongue through the gap in his teeth and looked to William. “Captain, what if they don’t chase?”
William was afraid of that. If they hung close to the gravity well, they’d have the ability to use his velocity against him. “Well, then we’ll get in close and give ‘em hell.”
“All right, Captain, two hours and we’ll meet the dropship,” Shay said.
The bridge crew watched as the icons glowed with acceleration markers. The meager fleet was slipping off to war.
CHAPTER TWENTY
––––––––
Natyasha sat and listened to the sound of footsteps in the hall. She didn’t much care who, or what, it was. The pace told her it wasn’t Bark. The weight of it told her it wasn’t Malic. The tempo told her it wasn’t the Governor. She felt afraid for a moment and focused on the tap, tap, tap.
Mahindra stepped into the doorway and drew away her shawl with a frail hand. “Natyasha,” she said in a voice surprisingly strong for her physique. Her eyes wore the look of someone with a burden.
“Councilor Mahindra,” Natyasha said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Mahindra waved a hand and stepped inside the meager office. “I’m too old to be bothered.” She sat in a chair of sculpted wood and ran her palm up and down the armrest. Her eyes rose to Natyasha and the creases spread on her face into a comforting smile.
“But you bothered to come see me?” Natyasha said. She felt a touch of something, a real connection that she hadn’t felt in a long time. A part of her wanted to reach forward and grasp the hand but instead she savored the feeling.
“Things are going poorly.”
Natyasha looked away and nodded.
“More people are being rounded up. They are sending them out to the immigration district.”
“Are they?” Natyasha asked. She’d heard they were being interned with the immigrants, but saw no reason to debate. The feeling of helplessness sucked the fight right out of her.
“They’ve brought... creatures.” Mahindra’s eyes rose and the warmth was replaced by fear. “The streets are patrolled by men who are not men. The brutes stand and watch.”
Natyasha felt Mahindra’s eyes boring into her. Guilt. Guilt. She could taste it.
“Malic—”
“Don’t,” Natyasha said, snapping her eyes back. “Malic’s running the show now.”
“He’s a monster,” Mahindra whispered. She leaned forward and set her parchment fingers onto Natyasha’s cold hand. “A monster.”
I know, she thought, I made him that way.
The room took on a humid feel and the wind dropped. A hiss of mist slid against the window. Outside, the distillation towers rose into the sky, spewing the milky white steam into the cool air. Natyasha turned and saw her dreams drifting away.
Like grasping at steam, she thought. Nothing to be done now but letting it coalesce, settle, drive out the impurities and leave the distillation behind. Only the bitter stuff.
“They still use your name,” Mahindra said.
“My name doesn’t mean anything.”
Mahindra pulled her hand back and
pursed her lips. “Child, I’ve watched men and women scrabble over this dirt. I watched when the food ran out. I watched when the water ran dry. I buried two husbands and three sons.”
Natyasha turned her head and looked at Mahindra. The woman was always reserved, regal, a staunch defender of the status quo, the long view. She opened her mouth to speak and stopped when a single crooked finger shot into the air.
“I’m not done!” Mahindra snapped. “We haven’t come this far to let it be torn apart.”
“What can I do?” Natyasha pleaded. “We have nothing. No troops, no military, no way we can fight. They’ll take what they want.”
Mahindra shook her head and stood on shaky legs. “I suggest you think of something, otherwise there won’t be anything left to think about.” The old woman walked to the edge of the door and turned. “Good day.”
“Good day,” Natyasha replied and listened to her walk out.
When the footsteps stopped, she turned her gaze up into the sky and caught a glimpse of the elevator through the steam. Her train of thought went to the edges, the fringes of possibility. On one side was Malic and troops. She knew she couldn’t fight, not with Malic’s boys holding the weapons.
She had a straight up numerical advantage. The colony was plump with citizens and she knew the polling numbers by heart. On top of it, the immigrants. She watched the mist shroud over the view and mulled the question. Immigrants. They had nothing, and she could offer nothing. But maybe it wasn’t a trade of items or goods, but something more abstract?
She stood and walked to the window. Her fingers touched the cold glass and she peered out into the street. Her eyes followed a patrol of the bio-augmented troops as they marched past. Farther down a heavy truck hauled gray canisters of distilled minerals.
“I’m here,” Bark said.
Natyasha spun and stared at Bark. Her hair was a mud streaked mess with scrapes and dirt stains across her face. Natyasha had never seen the ex-Marine so shaken. “Bark,” she whispered. “I thought you were dead.”
Bark stepped quietly into the room and leaned her back against the corner. Her shoulders seemed small as they hunched together. “Almost,” she said. “I had to run into the frontier. They chased until the roads stopped, but god, can those things run. Like dogs.”
“Sit, sit,” Natyasha said as she rushed across the room.
Bark shook her head. “If I sit, I sleep. We need to get out.”
“Malic took over, he must’ve known.”
“I know, I heard on the way back. We need to go.”
Natyasha nodded.
“Come.” Bark turned through the door.
Natyasha followed and stopped on the edge of the threshold. She knew if she passed through that door, she’d never step through it again. Her duty was in that room—by fleeing, she would be admitting defeat. “Wait.”
Bark stopped and rested an alloy arm against the wall. She looked at Natyasha with hard eyes.
“My duty is here. If I go...”
Bark stood up straight. “I can’t protect you here.”
“Go. Do the right thing.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see the Governor.”
*
Natyasha tried to ignore the abomination that walked beside her. The thing was almost like a man, but with something else. The skull was too small while the shoulders were knotted up and heavy. It had arms like an animal with large fingers like sausages. She shivered and looked away again. It didn’t seem to care one way or the other.
The two walked through the security checkpoint and into the elevator complex. The retaining wall was rebuilt in sections while pockmarks and shrapnel scars marked the event that had left Winterthur enslaved. The space was wide and mostly empty, but more and more of the heavy sealed mineral containers marked the desire of the Hun. Bulk containers were stacked in dreary columns of corrosion. The elevator shot straight into the sky and disappeared through the mist.
A voice, definitely not the escort, spoke from the chest of the creature. “The Governor will see you.”
Natyasha jumped, startled, and looked at the creature.
It turned slightly and beckoned with the odd hands for her to follow.
They walked on the aged, cracked concrete and entered the elevator complex.
The Governor stood with a small staff behind him. A squad of the humanoid soldiers flanked him on one side while a team of armored Human soldiers stood on the other.
“Natyasha,” Governor Myint said. “I was wondering when you would come.”
“I wondered the same,” Natyasha replied.
“We can use your help,” Myint said.
“My help? And I thought Malic took over the role of lapdog,” Natyasha said as she walked with the Governor.
“He’s a tool, useful for one particular task. You, on the other hand, are more useful.”
“So that’s why you didn’t have me shot?”
“Why Natyasha!” Governor Myint said with an offended look. “Just because circumstances change, doesn’t mean you’re not useful.” He turned his head back forward and said, “But do stay away from rendezvouses in the night.”
Natyasha’s heart chilled and she became very aware of the armed soldiers all around her. No, she thought, if they wanted me dead they’d have shot me. “What do you want?”
“Your voice,” Governor Myint said, entering a command room.
The room was filled with screens and displays. Infantry mounted feeds streamed in from across the city and countryside. Most of the feeds showed the immigration center and the surrounding area.
“We’re having a problem and I want you to resolve it.”
Natyasha glanced at the displays and saw that the immigration camp was filled, bursting. Men and women surged against the walls and were beaten back. The angry front of a crowd surged in and out. A riot was forming.
“We can’t hold them there,” Governor Myint said, waving his hand. “And we can’t control them in the city.”
“What about your drones?” Natyasha asked.
“The corrosive air has destroyed my razor drones. So either you calm them down, or the orbital bombardment will begin.”
“Orbital bombardment?”
“I’ll pacify this planet one way or another. They are your people, Ms. Dousman,” Governor Myint spat, and slapped his hand onto a console.
Natyasha stared back at the screen and saw targeting solutions overlaid onto the satellite feed. Good god. Her fingers trembled as she saw not only immigrants, those she cast aside, but also her citizens. The moment weighed on her shoulders and she saw that all were her citizens. No, she thought, not hers, but Winterthurs.
“Salamasina,” Governor Myint snapped. “One battery, firing solution four.”
“Solution confirmed. Thirty seconds,” a voice echoed from a console.
“What are you doing?” Natyasha asked. “I’ll speak.”
“And now they’ll listen.”
Natyasha stepped closer to the Governor and heard the sound of a weapon being charged. “Governor!”
“This is because you tried to edge me out. I could have used those facilities.”
“Core,” Natyasha whispered, and knew that the Governor had her.
A large screen shuddered and the image changed to a single satellite feed. Beneath it the immigration facility sprawled out at right angles. Clouds blew in and obscured the majority of the facility. A red icon lit up on the lower corner and counted down.
“You have to stop!” Natyasha pleaded. “This is not how you govern.”
“Govern?” sneered Governor Myint. “I’m not here to govern. I’m here to rule!”
Natyasha stepped back and watched as the icon blinked zero.
At first nothing happened. A single bead of black opened through the clouds and was swallowed up again. A violent torrent of air shuddered through the clouds and slammed the clouds away. Shockwaves rippled as the sound caught up with the proje
ctile. A billowing black cloud shot into the sky and melded into the white mist. A relatively small area of the facility was a crater ringed with wrecked buildings.
The room shuddered as the shockwave rolled through bedrock.
Governor Myint pointed to a comms console. “Tell them to stop the riots or we level the camp. After the camp, we level the cities. The only thing left will be the distillation towers and this complex.”
Natyasha stared back at the Governor and hated him with every bit of her soul. She knew she enabled it, but she couldn’t watch and wait when something could be done. She walked on numb legs to the communications console and sat.
A technician leaned over her shoulder and set it up. He tapped her shoulder and walked away.
“It’s not live,” the Governor added behind her.
Natyasha licked her lips and stared at the empty screen. Hope. They needed hope that something better was coming. That something would make the future worth living.
“Citizens of Winterthur, I speak to you in these difficult days with a beacon of hope. What was so sure yesterday seems so far today, but be patient that our partners in the stars will do us right. Stand quietly, stand patiently, but stand proudly. Do no violence, and await a better day.”
She said the words but it felt like she was watching someone else do it. Traitor, she thought. Traitor. All on her shoulders. There was nothing, nothing she could do to help anyone at all. At the very least she hoped that it would save some lives.
Governor Myint clapped. Loud slow claps that seemed to mock with each percussion. “Eloquent, simple. You are a politician, aren’t you?”
Natyasha stared back in silence and seethed.
“Now go.” Governor Myint turned and faced the satellite display with the growing cloud of dust.
A console crackled to life and Mustafa’s voice burst out. ”Ground Station, we have a Haydn signature.”
Natyasha stopped in the middle of the room and froze. Around her the staff stopped every task. Everyone in the room was silent and staring at the back of Governor Myint.
Edge of Redemption (A Star Too Far Book 3) Page 21