Edging tentatively forward, Bob continued, “It’s just that I’ve been mulling over one of the directives in the removal order . . . and . . . well, I had an idea.”
“Which one?”
Bob produced his ever present computer pad and scrolled down to an active page. Highlighting a passage, he pointed. “This directive here. See, where it says:
. . . and all equipment and ancillary materials that prove too cumbersome or impractical for relocation are to be left in situ. While this may appear wasteful, the solution is nevertheless practical. Space will be limited onboard, and a selective approach will assist the community as a whole. While the Arch of Winter is . . .
“Do you remember the specifics of the passage?”
“I most certainly do,” Mark said, “I lived by it for years. In my line of work we tend to live out of a suitcase and never get the chance to call one place home for long. A few paragraphs on from that, it starts itemizing a list of approved and inappropriate items. Talk about insulting.”
“Yes, well, I was wondering. Why don’t we use the occasion for a bit of payback?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Commander Cameron has clearly directed that whatever we can’t take has to be discarded and left here, correct?”
“That’s right. Go on.”
“Well, instead of simply dumping it, why don’t we make a gift of it?”
“What do you mean by gift?”
“Think about it. Because of logistics, we’re going to have to abandon the new power core and backup aqua-drives intact, along with a great deal of other equipment that took us weeks to set up. So, if we have to dispense with them anyway, why don’t we do something useful, and arrange for a little housewarming party? You know as well as I do, as soon as we’re gone, the Horde will inevitably check things out. They’re always hungry. Let’s make certain that what we leave is more . . . appealing, say, by moving three or four of the actuator cells into a more accessible position around the core. They won’t be able to resist them. When the rest of the crowd sees their more inquisitive friends feasting away unharmed, it’ll trigger a feeding frenzy. That will pull a whole mob of them in. Now, if we rig things properly so we can ensure they’re nicely congregated around their meal . . .” Bob reversed his fist, and then flicked his fingers open, “boom!”
Mark grinned. “I like your thinking, and goodness knows we all want payback for what they did to the mining crew, but won’t that just prompt a whole new wave of spawning?”
“Good point,” Bob acknowledged, “but I wasn’t just thinking of using the core. I intend to pack the place out with quantum gravity mines.”
“Oh, really? How many?”
“Once we’re aboard the Arch of Winter, we’ll never need them again. So I was thinking . . . all of them.”
Mark spluttered. “What? Bob, we have over a hundred full-sized mines in the magazine. And more than four times that amount of the micro variety.”
“Oh, I know. I believe the yield should be sufficient to completely crush this mountain and most of the starport out of existence. It will leave one hell of a crater and send quite a statement, don’t you think?”
Mark tried to visualize the devastation such an implosion would cause.
“Of course, to get the command staff to sign off on this,” Bob continued quietly, “I’d need your support. And that of anyone else someone of your influence could manage to get on side.”
Bob, I’m beginning to look at you in a whole new way.
Placing his arm around the other man’s shoulder, Mark steered him from the cave. “Let’s discuss this in greater depth over coffee.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Longest Wait
Mohammed’s office looked as if a bomb had hit it. Stacked boxes were everywhere. Filing cabinet drawers hung half-open. Virtually all the seats and worktops were covered in an assortment of equipment and personal items, and a sense of frantic disarray infested every corner of the room.
Amid this clutter, the Vice Commander was in the middle of a meeting.
“. . . and as you can see from the catalog, all relevant stores and administrative records are now in transit to the Arch of Winter.” Dr. Rosa Sophia shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had to be ruthless, but that doesn’t really matter. The entire archive has been crystallized into pertinent categories and will be coming with us in storage.”
Mohammed nodded to her. “Thank you for that, Rosa. It’s great to see how on top of things you are.” He took a huge gulp of coffee before pressing on. “Right. Now we come to city defenses. Marcus? As your men will be protecting the wall and the arc, we’ll start with you.”
Marcus had been listening from a position by the window. Turning, he paced toward the center of the room, and took a seat on a box. “We of the Ninth Legion are well versed in siege preparations, Commander. You need not fear. The bulwark is secure. You are aware our enemy was strangely quiet for a week. That period of grace is now over, and for the past three days they have assailed the city with renewed vigor. As usual, they concentrate their efforts around the site of the Shivan-Estre disaster. However, this morning my spotters detected a fresh area where they appear to be congregating in numbers. Thus far, our efforts to determine what they’re up to have been frustrated.”
“Why is that? Too far away?”
“Not at all. The Masters have erected a barrier of some sort. It shimmers like a mirage and defies scrutiny, even from the scopes of the sniper rifles.”
“Hmm. We’ll need to keep an eye on that.”
“Already done. Cathal MacNoimhin departed an hour ago in a shielded skimmer with a contingent of his Iceni tribesmen. They will travel toward the Asterlan Lake for a distance of ten miles before looping round to the Sengennon Hills. The highlanders have sharp eyes, and will be using the filtered optic devices Lieutenant McDonald kindly made available.” He nodded toward Mac, opposite him. “If they see anything of value, they’ll radio in.”
“How long do you expect them to have to remain on location?”
“As long as necessary, or until ordered to extract. They carry three days’ worth of rations, but will be relieved every day. I will continue the rotation, using clansmen, until told otherwise.”
Yet again, Mohammed was impressed by the tactical expertise the legionnaire brought to the table. And some people thought them primitive when they first arrived. Aloud, he asked, “What else?”
“In view of the latest development, I have asked Stained-With-Blood to provide us with teams of warrior braves. They too, have eyes like hawks and will form a walking security cordon. I’ve tasked them with patrolling the walls and isolated areas of the city to keep a look out for anything unusual. Additionally, I have revised the Legion’s duty schedules. While the commanding centurion of each unit will devise his own watches, I intend to stagger their actual deployment. From now on, both the barrier itself and the Arc of Death will be manned by a full cohort, with one standing-by in reserve. A three day cycle will ensure the soldiers are fresh and ready to fight.
“And speaking of the arc. My men now patrol both halves of the killing field and the moat. The trenches have been deepened, the hillocks fortified, and we have doubled the quantity of stakes lining the fosse. All distance markers have been rechecked, and the ballistae and catapults recalibrated. They now stand ready. Rhomane is prepared. Of course, I cannot prevent our enemy from resorting to more exotic means of penetrating our defenses. Obviously, that is beyond my control.”
Everyone understood his reference.
“That’s in hand,” Mac McDonald interjected. “Sorry to butt in, but as my Special Ops department doesn’t really fit in to what’s going on at the moment, I volunteered our services as makeshift hitmen.”
“Really?” Mohammed chuckled. “Do explain.”
“Simple tactics. With the redeployment of our resources, we need someone who can respond fast to an emergency, and hit hard. Sub Commander De Lacey over there was kind enough to
loan me four of these nifty matter transponders . . .” Mac raised his arm so everybody could see the bracelet adorning his wrist. “From what I understand, the main transporters shut down when the city is under siege, leaving only the battle circuit active. A sound security protocol, but a pain in the ass if you need to get somewhere in a hurry. The wristbands allow us to activate any pad we want. Once we arrive, we have these . . .” Mac patted the heavy machine gun lying across his lap. “That’s why I’m armed at the moment. All my team is on stand-by. If a call comes in, I have to go.”
“But what if you run into a Controller? We’ve seen how resourceful they are against bullets.”
“Aha! That’s where my latest toy comes in.”
Mac held his weapon up, so everyone could see the grenade-launcher attachment beneath the barrel. Smiling at Ephraim Miller on the other side of the room, he continued, “Ephraim and his boys have been busy. I now carry four racked, and four reserve mini micro-mines as part of my ammunition complement. While that’s quite a mouthful to say, it’s even more difficult to chew on, as I’m hoping the Horde will find out. The ambush out on the Shilette highway proved the Bosses don’t display the same suicidal tendencies as their lesser minions. Now we have these, there’s more than enough joy to share around.”
I’m relieved to hear it. “And are there enough of them to go round?”
“Oh, yes. My specialists are the first to be equipped. Then a batch is going out to Mark at the astrometrics facility. After that, we’ll kit out a small squad of trained civilians. I’ve got six or seven volunteers in mind, all of them pretty handy shots.”
“Thank you for that, Mac,” Mohammed replied. “I’ll ensure you get your pick of candidates. But please make sure I have plenty of notice. If they’re in an essential department, I’ll need to find suitable replacements before they get released.”
“No problems, I’ll leave the list among the mess on your desk.”
Everyone laughed at the jibe.
Mohammed glanced at the unsightly jumble that used to be his workstation. As a meticulously tidy person, he hated to sit in such an environment. It looks like someone’s used a bloody grenade in here already. He sighed. One more week, then it’ll all be over.
Turning to Sub Commander Ryan Davies, Mohammed said, “Something Mac just mentioned reminded me about Boleni Heights. You’re overseeing that phase of the operation. How is everything out there?”
“Absolutely fine. Nothing to report, other than they’ll be ready to move the day after tomorrow. In anticipation, I reassigned Wilson Smith and his unit to assist in the retreat.”
“Wilson Smith? How have Jake Rixton and his men taken to that?”
“No problems whatsoever. Second platoon have been there for three days now, and the two squads appear to be getting on well. Without their former captain to sour the waters, the men have gelled back into one fighting unit.”
“And who have they decided should lead them?”
“Now here’s the rub.” Ryan’s face broke into a broad grin. “When Smith and his lot arrived, the young officer was good enough to defer to the older and more experienced soldier. That took humility. However, Jake reminded the other man that he himself had only held his commission for a short while. That took character. Stuff me if they didn’t then get into an argument as to why the other should lead. It’s the only time the two have almost come to blows. Quite comical really.”
“And who won?”
“Young Smith, in a classic move, too. They were standing toe to toe, shouting and bellowing at each other, when Smith happened to glance at Rixton’s shoulder patch. Smith let out a howl of delight, snapped to attention, and threw the older man a salute. When Rixton asked him what the hell he was doing, Smith gaily pointed out the fact that the former sergeant had been promoted to full lieutenant.”
“And?”
“Don’t you know? Smith hadn’t served for all that long before he came here. He’s still a second lieutenant.”
Mohammed’s jaw dropped. I really must take another look at his personal file. I tend to forget their previous standing, as we issue our own commands. “I’d totally missed that. And you’ve just jogged my memory about something important . . .” Turning to Ayria Solram, he continued, “How is James Houston? Is his treatment preventing the relocation of your department?”
“He’s as fine as can be expected,” Ayria replied, combing her fingers through her hair, “especially since the ships have been moved. Now he can’t see them, he doesn’t get as many panic attacks. The tomahawk helps, too. But do you know, I get the damnedest feeling about him sometimes. It’s as if his mind has become wired in a different way since his accident. One moment he’s with you in the room, and the next? He might as well be on a different planet. He gets the weirdest, faraway look in his eyes, as if he’s viewing somewhere else. It’s at those moments you can almost see another side to his soul. The confusion. The horror of being who he is. Where he is. Of not knowing . . .” Ayria’s face screwed up in frustration. “Ah! I’m not a psychiatrist. If Helena were still alive, perhaps she could find the key to unlocking the mystery. As it is, I’m all he’s got.”
“Well, at least you make a difference,” Mohammed counseled, “and a little help is better than none.” Smiling, he added, “And what of the hospital?”
“We’ll be finished by tomorrow. I’ve made sure some of the latest medi-beds were transferred up to the Arch of Winter, along with most of the pharmacy. The only section operating now is the sickbay module within the Archive. Oh, and the psyche ward. I didn’t want to move James until the last moment.”
Mohammed nodded in appreciation. Turning next to a woman perched on top of two large boxes, he asked, “How are the transfers and flight tests going?”
“Smoothly,” Shannon De Lacey replied, “unlike me.” Uncurling herself from her position, she stretched, manipulating her shoulder until it cracked. “Sorry, but it’s not very comfortable up there.”
Shannon began pacing up and down, and helped herself to more coffee as she spoke. “We’ve been keeping the shuttles down to a minimum. I thought the Horde might try to watch our every move, and Marcus has confirmed my suspicions. That new post is probably logging every run we make. Not that it matters. Most of the stuff we send up is transferred via teleport pads, so our friends won’t know what’s going on until it’s too late. All they’re seeing is what they expect. We’ve got our hands on new aircraft, and are training our pilots in their use. In reality, Angela Brogan has been up on the Arch of Winter for the past week introducing the more experienced hands to Serovai. She’s handpicked a team of wing jockeys and navigators to form the nucleus of the flight crew for once we’re in deep space. Although the majority of our voyage will be conducted remotely, we still need sufficient operators to handle everyday oversight and emergency maneuvers. On top of that, every department now has a running section onboard, and will be ready to go live in four, maybe five days’ time.”
“Excellent news. And what about the additional armaments I asked to be added to the manifest?”
“They’re on schedule, too. Although the heavy cannons have been temporarily sited around the Archive.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. Saul said he was going to have a word with you. He wants an extra bit of insurance down there, until he’s ready to seal the rift.”
And, as usual, he’ll get around to telling me after the event! “I see. Thank you, Shannon, I’ll go and have a chat with him when we’re finished here.”
Finally, Mohammed turned to his scientific advisor.
“I’ve saved you for last, Ephraim. Now Serovai has lowered the security protocols, what can you tell us about our new girl?”
“Oooh, you’ll love this.” Swiveling round in his chair, Ephraim activated Mohammed’s wall monitor, and brought up an overview of what would be their new home for the foreseeable future. Coughing once to clear his throat, he continued, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to t
he Avenger Class Deep Space cruiser, Arch of Winter.”
He flipped the picture to show an exterior view, with dimensions.
“As you can see, she comes in at just over two miles in length, eight hundred yards wide, and three hundred yards high. Quite a lot bigger than any of the ships we were used to back on Earth.”
Pressing a button, Ephraim highlighted the factors he felt would be of interest to his eager viewers.
“What you are looking at here are thirty, dual point, defensive and offensive photon batteries with laser backups.” Click. “These are the subsidiary guns. And guess what — they’re Menta accelerators.”
“Menta accelerators?” Mac queried. “What’s that? I don’t think I’ve heard the term.”
“Fragmentation. Hard ammo,” Ephraim replied. “When you remember that the vacuum of space is an extremely hostile environment, these weapons make sense. No matter how advanced a society becomes, if you carry armaments that can pierce the hull of an opposing ship, or take asteroids out of the sky, it removes the need for high yield ordnance.”
Very clever! Mohammed thought. And, of course, so simple.
Ephraim pressed on. “Now, these are the launch silos.” Click. “As you can see, twelve are designed to launch nuclear payloads, while the rest are capable of delivering multipurpose warheads. Her current manifest shows a full stock of Excalibur torpedoes, Phoenix tactical strike missiles, and Sparrowhawk Darts. We will obviously be adapting some of them for wider use.”
The image zoomed in, and the outer hull turned transparent to show the internal features of the main sections of the craft.
“Basically, she’s divided into three compartments, each with its own sub-bridge.” Click. “Fore, we have CIC, a fully equipped midi-hospital, crew quarters and habitat zone. Aft is engineering, subsidiary sick bay, science and astrometrics. Along the midsection we find the power core, backups, hangars and ancillary maintenance bays.” Click. “There’s only one main flight deck, I’m afraid. But it’s vast.” Click. “And here, on the opposite side of the hull, is a smaller, reserved launch-and-retrieval pen for a standalone EMT shuttle. A very clever idea. Sadly, the Winter’s complement of defensive and offensive craft are missing. The crew must have taken them during the exodus. But that doesn’t really matter, as we can fill some of the available space with the ships we procured, and the full consignment of flyers.”
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