The man he was talking to actually laughed. “You must be mad.”
“I can arrange a demonstration if you wish, but if you aren’t Portal Captain, then I’m talking to the wrong person. He’ll be responsible for any damage I cause here.”
“Pickets targeted and locked,” said the engineer. Guppy IV’s missiles would take them all out in a single salvo, but at considerable cost in human life.
“Wait a moment. I’ll get him.”
Simon settled in his chair to wait, but a new, gruff voice was on the speaker only seconds later.
“This is Janus Stark, senior officer of Portal Authority. This portal is non-political and independent, with no ties to any planet or league. What or who gives you the right to come here and disrupt the flow of commerce?”
Janus? It couldn’t be, but it was the same rough voice.
“That’s not our intention, sir. We only mean to—”
“I heard all of it. The military ships you’re after weren’t sent by us. Take it up with Kratola; the Bishops are no concern of ours.”
“You admit those ships came through here?”
“Of course. There are no laws forbidding it. Any ship can make transit, once the correct portal tax is paid. Arrangements can always be made.”
Simon smiled to himself. “You remind me of a midshipman I served with on Lockspur three lifetimes ago. He knew how to get all our money before we even reached port, but I heard he was killed later in a fire after I’d left for another ship.”
A short, silent pause, then, “Who are you?”
“Simon Ziel, and I’ve never changed my name in seven lifetimes.”
Another pause, even shorter, and, “One second. I’m going to another line.”
It was Janus. He’d liked the man; though he was a rascal, he’d always been open about it. Simon had been saddened when he thought the man was dead.
Immediately, Janus was on the air again. “We’re private, now. By The Source, Simon, what are you up to? I’ve a nice setup here, and I don’t need anyone screwing around with it. You want something, let’s negotiate a price, just like the old days.”
“I thought you were dead in that fire on ‘Larkspur.’”
“No. I had other business to attend to at the time. Came back late, after it was over. Lost friends in that fire. What do you want from me?”
“Well, what I said before is the truth. The Bishops have sent their ships to regain control of the colonies, but we have the technology to stop or destroy them. I work for Zylak Industries, and the vessels with me come from them.”
“Ah, private industry,” said Janus. “That makes you merchant class. I can offer you a good rate on the tax if you give me a semi-honest estimate of cargo value. We’ll start with the five fighters you just deployed. What else?”
Simon suppressed a chuckle. “I’ve told you we’re not making transit, and I told you the truth about the power of our ships. Here’s what we can do.”
Simon told him everything: armament, jump-rate and distance, and the powers of the branegate when deployed.
Jamus whistled at him. “Whoo, imagine that scaled up for heavy cargo. No company could compete with you. Zylak is public, I presume. I wouldn’t mind having some stock in that company.”
Simon blurted it out before he could control his tongue. “That can be arranged,” he said.
“Really? Well, how does one earn such a valuable investment for his later years?”
“For starters, you can call off your pickets and allow us to berth here. Any military traffic will only be allowed towards the other side, and we’ll enforce it as long as the colonies are threatened. I also want to send a message to The Bishops, to let them know we cannot only destroy their ships, but Grand Portal as well. A demonstration that won’t harm anyone.”
“I’m responsible for any damage here,” said Janus, “and I worked nearly two lifetimes for this position.”
“We’re a military force with advanced technology; you were surprised and overwhelmed.”
“My colleagues will know better.”
“Not if they’re sufficiently compensated. Zylak Industries is an eight hundred trillion gold sovereign conglomerate, Janus. How much do you want?”
The silence was not long. “A half billion in stock for myself, and one and a half billion in gold to divide among all the workers here. That’s around a million per man, more than they’ll see in a lifetime. It should be enough.”
“Sounds more generous than I remember you being,” said Simon.
“Oh, I’ll get a chunk of the gold, too. I’ve a few businesses on The Wheel, and that’s the only place for pleasures around here. I’ll even take you there, if you stick around long enough. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes. I can have payment here in a few months, once our mission is accomplished. You’ll have to trust me for it.”
“And you’ll have to trust me right now. I’m calling the pickets in, and you can have your berths, but I want no lives lost or any permanent damage to Grand Portal by this demonstration of yours.”
“I was thinking of taking out a generator or two, and shutting down the portal for a day as a show of force. How easily can the generators be replaced?”
“Spares are parked days from here. We’d have to block all transits for a week. It would certainly get The Bishops’ attention. Most of the ships through here are from Kratola.”
“Make arrangements right now for a generator to be moved here. Talk to your people about the compensation. Tell them we’re a police force from the colonies, sent to keep military from coming through, and we’re making a show of power. Nobody gets hurt.”
“Better get the money here, Simon.”
“You get the generator, I’ll arrange for payment, right now.”
“Okay, but recall your fighters. I’m leaving one picket to guide you to your berth. Maybe later we can have a drink for old times.”
“Maybe,” said Simon, “but not until I send my message to the Bishops on Kratola.”
They were guided to their berths among a dozen other ships hovering near Grand Portal, most of them awaiting clearance for transit to the other side. Most were likely bound for Kratola. The Bishops would soon know their presence, even without a demonstration of power. Simon was certain of that. The word of huge sums offered to portal workers would be overnight headlines. Once on the other side, merchant ships would flash the news of a police force from the colonies blocking the passage of military vessels. The Bishops might disbelieve, or react with force. Simon had come prepared for all of it.
It took three days for tugs to bring in a replacement generator. A little over half a mile in diameter, it looked like an orange bristling with half protruding coins of gold.
Word went out about the demonstration. Traffic was halted, but for the crews it was free time on The Wheel, and a promise of pockets stuffed with gold.
Nobody grumbled.
Three thousand men and women watched viewscreens and looked out the windows of lounges and bars as a strange looking ship moved in close to a generator at the nine o’clock position around Grand Portal. A pimple appeared on the nose of the ship and began to glow bright green, and then a long protuberance could be seen, a long whisker glowing even brighter, and near its end a patch of flickering light in space itself. The patch grew brighter and began to move, growing larger and larger as it headed straight for the generator and struck it. There was a brilliant flash, and the generator was gone. The cats-eye of Grand Portal flickered and rippled, and the clear lane in the middle of it was filled with swirling colors. No sane man would have dared to pilot a craft through it, even the veterans of lifetimes. The turbulence in the transit lane grew for an hour before reaching a steady, boiling state. The effect was even greater than Simon had anticipated, and was explained later when word came back that the generator had reappeared exactly on the other side of Grand Portal. With one side missing a stabilizer, and the other side with excess, the effect had been more than double e
xpectations.
Simon was more than pleased, and sent a message to Anton about the results and also the money arrangements to be made. The Guppies in his flight had brought enough gold for only a down payment on what he’d promised, for he’d not anticipated the magnitude of the bribe. He knew full well that a Guppy would reach Anton before the speed-of-light message did. He planned to dispatch one of them soon.
First, he had to see if the Bishops would react. Things had gone easier than he’d anticipated so far, mostly because Janus was in charge of Grand Portal. No force was ever necessary with that man, as long as there was money to be had.
Grand Portal was closed to traffic for over a week, though a new generator was in place in only four days. When it was turned on, some stability returned, but not all of it. There was a tiny lane only shuttles and pickets could get through. One picket dared it, and a day later total stability was restored when the excess generator on the other side was turned off and removed.
It was the last simple thing that happened for Simon Ziel.
Grand Portal had been stable again for only a day when the picket that had been sent through returned at high speed. And within minutes, Janus called Simon.
“Better move quick to defend yourself, or get out of here, friend. The picket I sent through just got back, and the pilot says there are ten B-class ships bristling with missile pods and railguns on the other side. A couple of them were nearing portal for transit when the picket came through. You only have a few minutes.”
“I warned you about this, Janus.”
“I’d better not lose a single worker,” growled the man.
Simon broke contact, ordered his flight of Guppies into positions along the transit lane coming out of Grand Portal. Plenums were charged, Sniffers and Stingers deployed before they were even in position. There was a clear view down the transit lane, and the faint patch of black at its center. Transit itself took less than a minute, but anything coming through would be visible half that time.
He saw them coming far out, two large ships hurtling along in a line, several small escorts above and below them. The scenario had been discussed. Simon acted not by instinct, but by plan.
“Drop Novas! Target and destroy fighters! Project branegates to center on transit lane! Project!”
The transit lane coming out of Grand Portal exploded in bright green. Two large ships bristling with hull-mounted weapons burst out of Grand Portal and into green glow, from which they did not emerge. Several fighters avoided the branegates, veering out of the transit lane, firing missiles and railguns wildly as they maneuvered. Other fighters disappeared.
“Engage fighters! Wing one, send a Nova through Portal for reconnaissance and return!”
Guppy IV was rocked by impact or explosion. Fighters and Novas swarmed like insects outside. One missile heading straight for Simon’s canopy was intercepted by another, and exploded, Debris rattled off the nose of the ship, and Stinger whipped wildly for a moment, like an antenna caught in strong wind.
A Nova fled back through Grand Portal, and in seconds a fighter chased after it. Fire flashed as missiles struck small craft, vaporizing them, but in only a few minutes the dogfights were over. Only three small craft remained. All of them were Novas.
“That’s it. We’re closing Grand Portal. Take out generators at one, four and eight o’clock!”
The remaining Novas hovered in the transit lane while the Guppies charged plenums and moved close in to three of the four stabilizing field generators around the edges of Grand Portal. A Nova rushed out of it shortly before they were in position. Simon gave the order to discharge, and there were four bright flashes of green.
Grand Portal boiled in chaos, and suddenly Janus was screaming into Simon’s ear.
“Damn you, damn you, damn you!”
“Just think of the money, Janus,” said Simon, and broke contact with him.
Two Nova craft and their pilots were gone. One Guppy had been damaged by railgun fire, its drop bay open to vacuum, but otherwise fully operational. Simon sent it to find Anton and tell him what had happened, including the financial settlement with Janus and his people. Three Novas went along for the ride in the vacuum of normal and folded space.
Grand Portal was now under Simon’s control. When Janus was calm again he could arrange for three generators to be brought in, and traffic would eventually flow through the brane again. The invasion fleet would have a way to get home, if Simon allowed it, but privately he didn’t want that to happen. Privately, he hoped that the military power of The Bishops would be destroyed by Anton, once and for all, in a place far from him, and the colonies would be left free of their influence forever.
CHAPTER 42
John Haight did not wait for Gan to attack Galena. He only needed justification for his own attack, and it came soon enough. It was a month after Trae and Myra had sailed off to fight a war near the galactic core.
Rasim still had his spies in place. His embassy had been closed, the staff fled only hours before Khalil’s troops had moved in early morning hours to arrest them. Rasim had declared a formal break in diplomatic relations, and Khalil had retaliated with accusations of espionage and sabotage. Now he’d assembled a drop force of thousands for deployment in several ships to Galena. A highly placed source in the palace indicated an attack was eminent, would be explained publicly not as an occupation, but a return of democracy to Galena.
John intended to take out Khalil’s ships before they could leave the ground, and settle an ancient debt with the man. He was not just a soldier of The Church, now, not just a bodyguard or surrogate father. He was, in every sense, Leonid Zylak, just as Petyr had also been in another life. He was accepted in the role of the man because Meza and the other powers in Zylak Industries knew it was truth. They’d explained his true identity to the pilots who would serve under him. John had met with them, explained their mission was not just to destroy the military of an aggressive, imperialistic planet. It would also wrest power from a zealot whose colleagues had usurped a peaceful government on the home world of all the colonies, and wanted to do the same to Elderon, Galena, Gan and all their neighbors. The pilots cheered, and cheered again when he said he’d be right there with them when they smashed Khalil’s military to a bleeding pulp on the ground.
His force was a single Guppy, and twenty-five Novas. They flew together in normal space without jumps, a journey of two days. John flew in Guppy, a seat reserved for him in engineering, where he could watch and direct action on the ground. He had time to wonder about Trae and his encounter with the invasion fleet, whether or not they could be turned around with a show of force, or would have to be destroyed. The mission to Grand Portal was a holding action, and not likely to spark fighting; Simon only had to show the force he could bring against the portal to shut down commerce. But Trae and Myra could be in real danger.
In the quiet blackness of interplanetary space, John Haight thought of his early days on Kratola, before the time he and the missionary Leonid Zylak had become one person, a time when a young priest simply named John had rooted out and killed zealots of a fringe element seeking to transform The Church into a political force. They wanted to rule the planet in the name of The Source. And a man named Azar Khalil, a high Bishop, had been near the center of it even then.
Khalil was still alive, and now John would finally kill him, if all went according to plan.
With Khalil gone, peace would eventually come to Gan; the people had had a small taste of democracy, and would know how to win it again. But what of Kratola, truly his home world, and now under the thumbs of The Bishops? Even if the invasion fleet were destroyed, nothing would change for the people of Kratola. Their thoughts and lives would still be ruled by a handful of zealots who hid behind the teachings of The Source to keep power.
He was still thinking about this when the blue and green orb of Gan was large in his viewscreen. There was no time to pause, Gan’s scanners were even now sweeping over them. John ordered the Nova fight
ers to go straight in from a thousand miles out, in two waves of ten and fifteen. With a time interval of only one minute between them, they would first target and destroy all fighter craft on or off the ground, then drop heavy ordinance on the transport ships there. Azar’s palace was a secondary target. So close to the time of intended attack on Galena, the big ships might even now be loading drop troops.
The Nova formations streaked away towards Gan, and were soon glowing spots in its atmosphere. John ordered a test of Guppy’s branegate projection as routine, in case any ships got off ground and managed to get above the atmosphere. Sniffer and Stinger were deployed, and the plenum charged for two minutes. The Nova squadrons were nearing ground when John’s Guppy opened a branegate, and he was trying to watch two screens at once. One of the screens nearly blinded him.
In practice runs with Guppy’s crew, John Haight had seen the projection of several branegates: spectacular, brilliant flashes of rich green, then the characteristic cat’s-eye pattern of a tunnel to another universe. But this time, as the branegate was just forming, a terrible rush of yellow flame spewed out of it. The hull temperature went up so fast that within seconds John could feel heat radiating from the walls. His pilot reacted instinctively, and shut down the gate by cutting off trickle current to Stinger.
“By The Source, what was that?”
“Star on the other side, sir,” said the pilot. “We were pulling flaming gas from its atmosphere. I can try again in another spot, but the result will likely be the same for thousands of miles around here.
“Can we use the branegate in that circumstance?”
“Sure can, sir. Just have to be quick about it. We’ve done it before, sir.”
All so routine to the pilot, perhaps, but not to John Haight, and then a sudden thought occurred to him.
It was a sign, a sign from The Source of all wisdom and love, a sign to a soldier of His Church.
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