by Scott Rhine
****
Minutes after Deep 7 exited the subbasement into real space, Roz woke Kesh from his suspended animation unit. “If you die here, the secret dies with you. Tell me. Where is the Banker copy of the Enigma hidden?”
Groggy from the cold in the room, Kesh told her.
“A museum? All this time?”
“Yep.”
“We’ll never see the artifact unless we land on the Teller homeworld.”
“They’d be willing to give us a tour after we save their gods from destruction.”
Kesh and the others geared up in the stasis bay. He dressed in the heaviest-duty spacesuit money could buy, but he didn’t hold out much faith in the material. If something was flexible enough to bend at the elbow, it wouldn’t stop a slug thrower or a sword. The Bat went without bulky chest armor in order to maximize his speed.
Everyone except the Banker shard and Tellers would endure the last hop awake in the shelter of the innermost sphere. Upon arrival, they would have a matter of seconds to run to the shuttle bay and prepare for combat. Because Deep 7 would be vulnerable for up to thirty minutes while the enormous quantum capacitors recharged, the ship would hide behind a space station. Surveillance drones would deploy, giving the shuttle the coordinates of the enemy ships. The smaller shuttle could flicker in and out of the subbasement every two minutes, giving them the element of surprise—in theory. If Kesh had guessed wrong about attack formations, they could be hammered from behind or spotted. Worse, the enemy could have laid mines. No one could predict the fog of war. The hand has been dealt. All we have to do is flip over the tiles.
While the shuttle was scouting, the former members of Far Traveler Unlimited would hold the open landing bay against boarders and repair damage from stray blasts. Once The Mayflower was located, the team would be ferried out to neutralize it.
Watching the countdown, Kesh held his breath at zero.
Immersion was hard to describe. If the last experience had been as unpleasant as diving into the koi pond, this one was like being dragged behind a speedboat through a river. He tried to grab onto a zero-g ladder, but it dissolved like sand. He sank to all fours, trying to resist the current. The faster it flowed, the more afterimages rippled behind him. Is Roz losing focus or choosing from alternate realities?
Only Max seemed unmoved, unaware of the torrent surrounding them.
The effect passed in the blink of his eye membrane. The emergency lights popped on, and the room temperature plummeted.
“Go. Go!” shouted Roz over the speakers of her crystal coffin.
Kesh’s blood was sludge. His brain cells refused to work at their usual level. The others raced past. How can I charge to my doom if I can’t run?
Roz leapt out of her coffin. She grabbed her rifle and put an arm around him. He could see a gray-tinged reflection of himself in her visor. “Sorry. Didn’t think about what the chill would do to you. We’re conserving energy to hide our emissions.” Halfway to the shuttle bay, she said, “Oh, no.”
“More ships than we anticipated?”
Breathing hard, she said, “There are no enemy drive signatures. No invasion fleet. The pilots are pissed.”
“That can’t be. Reuben drew the attack maps for this place. They’re targeting the main depot. The pirates cased that place for decades.”
She propped him in a round doorway to remove her helmet. “The Bankers are accusing us of making it all up in an attempt to access their top-secret areas. They’re demanding we let Teller patrols board our vessel and search for robbery plans.”
“We can’t let them do that.”
“You’d face off against a dozen ships to protect me?” She seemed touched.
Kesh laughed. “I’d face off against them because the Tellers would find those robbery plans on Reuben’s goggles or blow his fool head off trying. We’d all cop to it under interrogation.”
“Damn.”
“We’re missing something obvious. This system was key to the success of the invasion. Reuben read from Phib documents that listed the plans for the smash-and-grab in minute detail. We have patrol route schedules—everything. Tell your Magi friends to scour the system themselves.” Kesh struggled to find some loophole. “Maybe Xerxes knew about the undertow toward the galactic hub, and the invaders are going to use it to slide under the picket line.”
“Fine. What’s the military operation called?” she asked.
“Poorinalus. He’s famous Yellow Claw general who had most of his throat torn out when animals attacked. He couldn’t speak anymore, but the sign language he invented is still used by special-forces troops today.”
“A mute?”
The word in Banker was an oddity, translating as “Listen only, no share.” The term null, one who could do neither hear nor speak in the collective, was too insulting to use around Roz and Max. The word implied a drooling idiot, all but useless to society.
“Yeah. Next time we trawl through subspace, could we get helmets lined with that crystal material your coffin is made of?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Let’s just say people weren’t meant to be awake through that trip. Maybe your loss of the link has more to do with your ability to navigate that realm than your PM talent. The perfect storm.”
“Huh.”
31. Now You See Me
Kesh projected the annotated star charts onto the huge, curved wall of the forest biozone to hold his briefing. “Turns out that the pirates did attack this system, exactly the way I predicted.” He paused for effect. “One hundred thirty years ago. Four ships invaded, held the depot for a few hours, and one heavily damaged courier escaped. After that, Bankers raised patrols to their current insane levels.”
With a low whistle, Reuben said, “That was before Xerxes even invented his plan.”
Max replied, “What did the Phibs steal?”
“Inventory shows nothing missing from the Nivaar-bound caravan.”
“Just because you can’t see the smoking gun doesn’t mean nobody was shot,” Max insisted. “Phibs don’t retreat unless they succeed. The Bankers just don’t know what they stole yet.”
Roz shrugged. “Looking at caravan logs could tell them the exit vector and rough distance to Nivaar.”
“But only an ansible could provide the route,” Kesh said, thinking out loud. “They don’t trust anyone other than their own species with that information. No intact ansibles were stolen. The most logs would give them would be an arc of probable position.”
Reuben raised a hand. “If they didn’t take any treasure from the caravan, did they plant something? Perhaps a nuke.”
“With a hundred-thirty-year countdown?” Daisy said, dubious. “If Xerxes had ordered it, it might be possible but not the Phibs. Though, that does raise an interesting question. How easy would it be to plant nukes? The caravan would behave like a train. The automated vessels fly behind in each other along exactly the same path. A large debris field and hard radiation could sweep them all.”
Kesh sighed. “We’ll warn our allies to have new pods quarantined at the sorting center orbit until they can be screened.”
Max stared at the overhead and placed a finger to his lips. “More importantly, why attack at that moment? Those same ships had interacted with the Tellers and cased the system for decades. They traded with Bats waiting for a specific event.”
Brainstorming, Reuben said, “Bats have been monitoring ansible traffic in secret for centuries. What did they hear that interested the Phibs?”
“The other pirates were sacrificed so one could escape. What was on the fastest pirate?”
“Did they check the FTL ships returning from Nivaar?” asked Reuben.
“They’re always empty, and none arrived that week,” said Kesh after consulting the nav logs. “You’re thinking like a criminal, though. Good.”
“Not completely empty,” Roz clarified. “They had shards from the tentacle monsters piloting them or maybe even a load of ansibles from Nivaar slated for
new bank branches.”
Kesh shook his head. “No ansible has ever been captured intact. Explosive charges rip everything apart. The thing inside hits self-destruct. Then the people who opened it have every cop in the Union on their tails for murder. Remember? Even the blast residue comes back here for reclamation. They make their bits into the diamonds that Banker agents wear.”
Reuben read the attack reports. “They blew the side out of the diamond vaults to raid the place. The pirates carried off several bags worth.”
“True, but every serial number is accounted for,” Kesh said.
Daisy read over the Ram’s shoulder. “They weren’t very good with explosives. Those guys used way too much.”
“Greed can make beings stupid,” Kesh suggested.
Max shook his head. “Not a Phib strike team. If there was too much destruction, they had a reason. What else came into the system just before the pirates?”
Roz reviewed the nav beacon logs. “Um … some wreck. A Banker survey vessel had the crap pummeled out of it by a solar flare. It barely limped here.”
“For repair?” asked Max.
“No. Reclamation. The ansible was damaged. Couldn’t broadcast anymore.”
“And couldn’t self-destruct,” Reuben crowed, convinced he’d found the reason, the seed for the entire conspiracy.
“Homonyms.” Kesh flared his nostrils, as if on the trail of prey. “Blast English.”
“Mind telling the rest of us who aren’t linguists?” said Menlaus.
“Glory Point was never a place. It was a rare thing, the Holy Grail of military intelligence—a captive Banker that couldn’t call for help. It could be forced to point the way to its homeworld. In Phib, the term Point Glory means that which points the way toward glory. It just got mangled in the translation. The entire invasion is predicated on a compass.”
Daisy covered her mouth. “How awful.”
“Its own people treated it like garbage. At least the pirates let it live.”
“No. They made it lead the invasion of its homeworld. Imagine being forced to betray your race that way.”
“Poetic,” Reuben said. “Their rejects were the first step in their downfall. We had the right two points, but the timeline was wrong. The mute came first, making the fleet possible.”
“So it’s Intercept Bravo after all?” Kesh changed his tone to one of command. “Minder, zoom out factor eight.” He repeated his order until the computer-projected map showed the candidate system and probable routes through Banker space.
Roz examined her notes. “We got a news hopper yesterday. Bravo is empty. Not even a tanker.”
“Jeez, how fast do those torpedoes go now?” asked Max.
“Someone came up with the bright idea of shipping a nanofactory on the torpedo. They reproduce themselves in a few days now with the proper feedstock. Swarms of cheap replicas are buzzing through Magi space.”
“Not something we should tell the Bankers,” Kesh said. “The tanker with the field-refinery equipment must have followed the fleet. Why?” He could almost see the pieces falling into place behind the Ram’s eyes.
Reuben put on his goggles to check something in the Study. “This wasn’t Mozart, where every note is precise. This fleet was jazz. Xerxes didn’t know the final path himself. He had to plan for a range of possibilities as the lost bird migrated home.” He placed a finger on the wall and said, “Draw in red.”
Starting at the upper corner of Magi space, he connected Bravo to the next system with a gas giant with a glowing red line. Then, he scribbled dates next to each—cryptic notations from the Study. The row of dots ended with the death of Xerxes, but the trend was plain, an arrow leading straight to Nivaar. It was the astrogation equivalent of driving cross-country in the dark.
Roz blinked as she calculated in her head. Very softly, she asked, “Do the Tellers have telescopes?”
“They know about ideal systems and fly to other moons. It’s a good bet their temple has one pointed at the water world at all times,” Kesh said. “Why?”
“Wake the High Loan Officer and tell his people where to aim their telescopes. From my calculations, the fleet should already be coming into their system hot, decelerating.”
“A month away?” Reuben guessed. “Why tell them now?”
Max shrugged. “Maybe they’ll be so panicked by the discovery they won’t ask how we knew. The Bankers will beg us to take their fuel. We can still beat the fleet if we want to. All in favor?”
Kesh raised his hand, as did the bloodthirsty Bat and Reuben.
Daisy replied, “If all they’re going to do is starve them out, we have more leverage the longer we delay. We could carry food to them later with conditions. Bankers only respect when you deal from a position of strength.”
Considering the possibilities, Max said, “Since we’re spoiling the surprise, maybe the Bankers can limit casualties. A humanitarian mission does have a much better chance of success.”
Though no one could label Max a coward, Kesh said, “That seems uncharacteristically cautious for you.”
“As you point out, I’m the only person on this ship who’s been a professional soldier. Without planning and overwhelming superiority, things won’t end well.” Max joined hands with Roz, who was probably the root cause of this reversal. “I also have a child I’d like to see born. I want to help raise her right.”
Roz added, “The Bankers won’t have to learn how fast we can really fly. This way, I don’t have to choose a path where someone I love dies.”
Echo broke the tie. “We are to love all sentients. We must attempt to rescue them. However, they’ll owe our people their copy of the unharmed Enigma. If we die, our daughter will know we did so upholding the ideals of our Union, not profiting from the suffering of another.”
Everyone stared at the Magi after her hawkish speech.
Kesh nodded his agreement. “Some of us are going to die soon either way. We should make sure that death counts for as much as possible.”
After Max changed his vote, Roz reluctantly agreed.
Only Daisy abstained. “I’ve been ordered to observe for now. No combat.”
Llewellyn Corporation wants to sit back until the contest is decided and then side with the winner.
“Any last-minute changes to the plan?” asked Max.
“A couple,” replied Kesh. “Send the three Magi warships ahead to the base of the Wall in case the Phibs have allies spying on us. If we fail, they’ll be in a position to offer aid.”
“Good idea. The biggest one, The Balance, has a military-grade fab system aboard that can generate glass-coffin material. They could build and ship us spare parts if we get damaged. What else?”
“Bring one of those little automated Banker transports aboard. The Nivaar system will be lousy with them. No one will think twice about another one floating around. While the shuttle keeps the fighters distracted, the rest of us can board The Mayflower. That’s where the war will be won or lost.”
32. Darkest before the Dawn
Apart from Roz, the team remained asleep during the whirlwind advance. For maximum speed, Deep 7 traveled directly hubward along the border for as long as possible. Wherever the Bankers couldn’t appear in a system ahead of time, they permitted Magi refuelers to cross the boundary. The plan was for the defenders to spiral in, using the fuel depots from the automated convoys.
Roz woke Kesh for an unexpected strategy consultation. She had wisps of gray in her hair from the constant pressure. She had been steering nonstop through months of harrowing rapids while he slept. The doubts and loneliness had taken their toll. “I don’t know what to do. It’s all falling apart. Nivaar telescopes reported the enemy at the gates sooner than anticipated.”
He looked at the time left and the map. “We don’t have time to follow gravity lanes. We need a shortcut. The next jump should be here.” He pointed to a blank spot on the map.
“We can’t even find free hydrogen in an empty expanse like that.
The Banker ships can’t meet us there without a gravity source.”
“How many probes can you muster?” asked Kesh.
“Several hundred.”
“Coordinate them by ansible. The Bankers won’t mind sharing the coordinates because the void spot is nowhere near the fortress. Have each probe carry as much fuel as possible.”
She shook her head. “We’d need nearly a thousand, and even then it would be close.”
“Could you get behind the fleet inside optical range for the shuttle?”
“Yes, but we wouldn’t be able to dodge.”
“With a half-hour cycle time, we couldn’t anyway. We were always sitting waterfowl.”
“Up till now, we could’ve escaped. If the Bankers don’t survive, no one will bring us fuel. Do you know what the Phibs would do to Max?”
Kesh grabbed her arm. “Commit, and we’ll succeed. Tell the Academy of Sages and all your fellow Magi that this is your hour of need. Send everything they can to their Enlightened One.”
She sighed. “Screw your courage to the sticking point.”
“Is that a human profanity?”
“Shakespeare.”
“Ah. The perverted one. Dreamed of women bedding men with donkey’s heads.”
“Yeah,” Roz replied with a grin. “Wrote some of the best porn holos in his century.”
The rendezvous in dead space didn’t go as well as planned. Without navigational references, some of the torpedoes missed completely. Those torpedoes were remote-controlled to follow into the Nivaar system for use as shielding. More torpedoes arrived each day than Roz thought possible. Systems worth of Magi were devoting every spare resource to send her this aid. The thought brought tears to her eyes.
Even after they had the fuel Deep 7 needed, probes continued to trickle in. Kesh eagerly added them to his defensive swarm. Although, control of the top-secret resources was now under control of the Magi crewmembers. Even his tactical software had been co-opted.
Though Banker outposts in their system were already being bombarded by enemy fighters, Roz waited for the arrivals to stop. Echo insisted they take the jump resonance rings off all the empty hoppers so that the survivors of the battle, Banker or Phib, couldn’t return to claim them later. Roz lined the circular halls of Deep 7 with hundreds of them to turbocharge the ship’s main ring. “Our transition into the subbasement should be seamless now.”