"Keep going!" Lilah shouted. "We have to."
They were right between the rings, and Jeff could see a violet blue discharge in the air. They were running toward a vertical curtain, a smoking nimbus of ionized air. He could smell ozone, and he might have paused and turned around, but Lilah had him by the arm. She dragged him forward, into and through the shimmering screen.
He felt his weight double, then increase again. He staggered and nearly fell, but regained his balance at the last moment; then it was his turn to pull Lilah onward as her knees buckled under her.
They crawled the next ten yards side by side. Jeff felt his weight gradually return to normal. Behind him, the blaring voice announced: "THIS REGION CLOSED TO HUMANS WHILE FIELD DISCHARGE IS PREPARED. ENTRY IS PROHIBITED."
"It's all right." Lilah climbed awkwardly to her feet, stooping to rub her bruised and scraped knees. "We're safe now."
Safe, with a Space Navy fleet perhaps within firing range? Maybe they would have been better off to head outward, using their suits to jet as far away from Confluence Center as they could get. Jeff didn't pass that thought on to Lilah. It was too late to act on it anyway. He said, "We have to get to where we can see the displays. If the navy is arriving I may be able to guess what they are going to do from the positions they take up. Standard formations are designed for use in particular types of engagement."
"The control center—if we're not locked out of it. There are other display points, but they're not as good."
They were hurrying inward, toward the middle regions of Confluence Center. Another steady hum filled the air. Jeff glanced at Lilah, but she shook her head. "Nothing to do with energy storage or use. That's the general-address system. Everyone will want to hear what Control says to the fleet, and what the fleet says back. Think lucky, Jeff. We're almost there."
Even before she finished speaking, Jeff could see that the sliding door at the end of the corridor was open. Was that the luck that Lilah was talking about, that the control center would not be closed to them?
Before the day was over they would surely need a lot more luck than that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LILAH slowed to a walk as she reached the open door of the control center and strolled through, as though this were the perfectly ordinary morning of a perfectly normal day.
At first sight it was. The control room was quiet and uncluttered. Connie Cheever sat at a communications console, apparently relaxed. Half a dozen senior staff members surrounded her. Only the displays, set to show the sky in every direction from Confluence Center, told a different story.
Scores of ships were displayed there, four or five on every screen. They were moving into position, slowly and deliberately. The fleet had abandoned the hollow-cone formation used on long journeys, and was regrouping to form a great hemisphere with Confluence Center at the center. Once a ship reached an assigned position, it remained there.
"You know what that means?" Jeff said softly. "If they just wanted to keep us from escaping, they would deploy around the whole sphere. Ships form a formation like this when they want to be sure they can't fire past the target—us—and hit each other."
"I guessed that." Like Jeff, Lilah spoke in a whisper as they edged into the room. "Bad sign."
"But a good sign, too." Jeff added. "They aren't going to fire at once. Before they do that, you'll see them turn to face us head-on. As long as you see the ships in profile, you're all right."
Low as they had kept their voices, they had been noticed. Connie Cheever had her back to them, but she turned and pointed to Jeff. "You stay. But I don't want a word from you unless you see the fleet doing something that you think I'll miss. Then you pipe up at once. Don't worry, no one in the fleet will be able to see or hear you. Lilah, you can stay, too—but not a peep, no matter what."
Lilah did not risk a reply. She came forward and settled down cross-legged by her mother's chair. Jeff, not at all sure what Connie Cheever might notice or overlook in the actions of the fleet, moved forward and stood by Lilah's side. As soon as he was settled, Connie Cheever touched a pad on the console and said to the air in front of her, "Go ahead."
The face of Captain Mohammad Duval appeared. Jeff started to say to Lilah, "The Dreadnought never left! They just pretended to!" He bit back the words.
"Administrator Cheever." For a change, Duval was not smiling. "Following our last conversation, I have had the opportunity to consult with the Sol authorities."
Lilah gave Jeff's leg a great jab with her elbow. He could guess what she meant. He's a bloody liar. You can't talk to Sol authorities without going back through the node, and we know he hasn't done that. He nudged his calf back at her arm, looked down, and winked in agreement.
"I see." Connie spoke slowly, and only after a long pause. "Are you permitted to tell me what the Sol authorities told you?"
Not a word about the sudden appearance of the fleet. No mention of Mohammad Duval's obvious deceit the last time that they met. Jeff decided that he had no idea what game Connie was playing.
"I relayed to them your proposed terms, including your offer to provide the Anadem field and all associated technology. Unfortunately"—Duval offered his flawless and humorless smile—"those terms are judged unsatisfactory."
Again Connie delayed before she answered. "I am sorry to hear that," she said slowly. "Was there a suggestion for more acceptable terms?"
On her final words, Hooglich came hurrying in at the other side of the control room. She was wearing a space suit. She nodded vigorously, gave a thumbs-up sign, and was away again without a word.
"Because, of course," Connie went on, at more like her normal rate of speech, "we are anxious to reach agreement with you. We prefer to enjoy a mutually beneficial trade relationship with the Sol worlds, rather than engage in disputes."
Instead of answering, Duval vanished from the display. He was back in a few seconds, and now he was not smiling at all.
"Administrator Cheever, my technical staff report that a powerful, very low frequency electromagnetic signal is emanating from your facility. If you imagine that this somehow shields you from the weapons of my fleet, let me assure you that is very much a mistaken notion."
"I never held any such illusions, Captain Duval. The long wavelength radio signal that you refer to is simply a part of our communications system. Let me say again, we would like to hear the terms that Sol would consider acceptable."
"Very well." Duval glanced to one side, seemed reassured by what he saw or heard in his own ship, and went on. "As you know, the Sol central government regards the Messina Dust Cloud as historically part of the Sol domain. All technological developments made in the Cloud therefore legally belong to Sol, as do any and all materials and natural resources found in the Cloud. I am directed to perform annexation of the Messina Dust Cloud in the name of Sol. You are to turn over to me, and to my fleet, control of Confluence Center. You will also direct all harvesters and rakehells operating within the Messina Dust Cloud to report to me."
Jeff felt Lilah jerk on the floor beside him, and heard her stifled snort of disbelief. The independence of the crews of harvesters and rakehells was legendary. How could Connie Cheever make them report to Duval and the Sol fleet, when they never acknowledged any government?
Jeff had his own worries. He was watching the ships on the screen. One by one they were turning to point directly toward the Center. Firing position.
"And, of course," Duval was continuing, "your submission to us must include turning over to my custody the renegade jinners and ensign of the Aurora, so that they may be delivered Sol-side for trial."
"The ships," Jeff whispered. "The fleet ships are getting ready to fire."
Connie turned at once. Out of sight of Duval, she spoke into the general-address system. "All personnel into suits." And to Jeff and Lilah, "You too!"
While Lilah went scrambling toward a control-room locker that Jeff had never even noticed, Connie returned to her position and nodded to Mohammad
Duval. "Let me make sure that I understand this, Captain," she said calmly. "You lay claim to all of the Messina Dust Cloud, including Confluence Center and its contents. The Cloud will become an occupied territory, taking direction from Sol. You further require that all harvesters and rakehells submit to your orders. And we must hand over to you Jinners Hooglich and Russo, and Ensign Kopal."
"Correct."
"And if we refuse to do so?"
"I suggest, Administrator Cheever, that refusal is not an option for you. Perhaps I was not clear. Let me say this now in such a way that you cannot possibly misunderstand me. My orders are quite explicit. We are not here for negotiation. We are here to accept your surrender."
"Yes, that's clear enough. And if we do not surrender?"
"I repeat, that is not an option. I am empowered to use all necessary force to make you comply. If you do not surrender, I will be obliged to use whatever weapons are needed to subdue you or destroy you. I suspect that you do not comprehend the forces at my disposal."
He gestured offscreen. Where he had been standing, the display now changed to show an image of Confluence Center, floating free against the glimmering backdrop of the Messina Dust Cloud.
"Watch closely, Administrator," said Duval's voice. "This does not show the strength of my fleet—rather, it demonstrates the power of one weapon of a single midsize cruiser. Now!"
At his final word, the control room of Confluence Center shivered. The displayed image of the structure blazed with light, then cleared to show that the longest extension arm of Confluence Center was gone. It had not been sheared off, to hang loose in space. It had vanished in a puff of incandescent gas.
Jeff felt a knot in his chest. He and Lilah had been in that very arm less than a quarter of an hour earlier. But for her arrival, he would have stayed there and been vaporized. If the fleet fired at Confluence Center, the suits that Lilah had brought and they had just put on would do nothing to protect them.
"Do you need further proof, Administrator?" Once more, Duval occupied the display region, and the smile was back on his face. "I am sure that you will agree you have no alternative. Nor, in fact, do I. I must demand your surrender."
Connie, without looking down, touched the control pad in front of her. Jeff heard—or imagined, it was so deep and faint that it was hard to tell which—a subsonic murmur in and around him.
"You make matters very difficult for me, Captain Duval. I do not wish to endanger my people, or seek to harm yours. I ask again, Is there any way that we can negotiate a peaceful resolution? As you know, we are willing to make concessions."
"You heard my terms. I cannot change them, even if I wanted to. As for your ability to harm us, that is ludicrous. You must surrender. After that, we will see."
"We will not surrender, Captain. The terms that you state are totally unacceptable. In fact, they are insulting."
Duval stared back, tight-jawed. "Administrator Cheever, you are insane. You must accept our terms. Didn't you hear what I said? I am empowered to use all necessary force. If you resist, I have no choice. You face total destruction."
"You believe that, Captain. We—and I speak for all senior members of Confluence Center and the Cloud government—feel differently."
The background murmur was stronger, increasing steadily in pitch. It was now unmistakable, a low rhythmic whine as loud as speech. Connie Cheever raised her voice to speak over it. "I say again, we reject your proposed terms. Moreover, I urge you and your fleet to leave the vicinity of Confluence Center at once, and as fast as possible. If you refuse to do so, I cannot be held responsible for the consequences."
Duval's face reflected his disbelief. 'We are in danger? From your stupid, do-nothing radio signals? I don't know what your scientists told you, Administrator, but it's nonsense. The low-frequency field you are generating does nothing to us, and it will not protect you from our weapons. Surrender immediately—or suffer the consequences."
"You have it the wrong way round, Captain. You must surrender to us. Do so at once, and formally, and you will not be harmed. Fail to do so, and I cannot say how many of you will be alive one hour from now."
"That was your last chance." Duval glanced beyond the display region to left and right. "Gunners, prepare to fire. Cheever, you do not have an hour. You have exactly half a minute. Surrender within that time—or die."
"We will not surrender. We will never surrender. Captain, I beg you, for your own sakes, leave here—and leave now." Connie Cheever glanced down, and Jeff caught her muttered words. "Simon Macafee, you had better be right."
The whine became a scream. As it moved higher in pitch, it also became familiar.
Shreep-shreep-shreep-shreep.
Jeff covered his ears with his hands and crouched down beside Lilah. To his surprise, Connie Cheever left her position at the control panel and joined them on the floor. She worked her way rapidly into the suit that Lilah had brought for her. When that was done she put her arms around her daughter and Jeff. She pulled them to her, huddled their heads close together, and said, "It's out of my hands now. God help us, no matter who wins."
A moment later, Lilah broke her mother's order to remain silent. She cried, "The displays! Look at the displays!"
Jeff raised his head. He had never seen an actual space battle, but no one born a male Kopal could spend his boyhood without being forced to watch scores of simulations and reenactments. He was looking at a classical pattern. The ships of the Sol fleet showed on the screens in a great hemisphere, poised in formation and ready to fire on Confluence Center. The glowing mass of the Cloud sat behind them, its rivers of neutral hydrogen swirling with plasma streaks of ionized carbon and oxygen and salted with pockets of stable transuranic elements.
He had stared at the Cloud a hundred times in the past few weeks, but it had never been like this. As he watched, the smooth dimly lit face sparked and scintillated with a million scattered points of light. Pinpricks of orange and gold flared bright and then as quickly faded. Where they had been, space held a curious empty clarity. Jeff felt that he could see all the way to the edge of the universe.
The luminous clarity lasted for only a few seconds. Then black marks pocked the delicate lilac-and-pink background. At first they appeared as little more than tiny dark tadpoles, but rapidly swelled to more ominous shapes.
Sounders—and sounders in numbers that Jeff had never dreamed of. They were appearing from nowhere, more and more, in their hundreds and in their thousands. Every one came racing in, rushing straight at Confluence Center. Shreep-shreep-sh-r-e-e-e-e-e-p. The ear-piercing signal generated within the Center faded. As it did so, a thousand answering calls poured in from space, shreep-shreep-shreep-shreep.
The infalling wave of sounders came toward Confluence Center like the rush of night, a closing wall of darkness oblivious to the loss of the outgoing signal. Between sounders and Center stood the ships of the Sol Space Navy. They had certainly detected the presence of the sounders—the calls resonated in every electromagnetic circuit within thousands of kilometers. For a few moments navy discipline held, all ships maintaining their positions. Then, one by one—with permission from Duval, or without it; there was no way that the watchers on Confluence Center could tell which—the ships turned.
Half of them fled, streaking toward and through the sphere of sounders at maximum acceleration. The rest, confident of the power of their weapons, held their ground. As the sounders closed and closed, space filled with the infernal flare and sparkle of Space Navy might.
The brilliance was too much for the display screens. They overloaded. When they flickered back into service, the scene had changed. Sounders closest to the ships were homing in on them, apparently little damaged by the first attack of navy weapons. The dark maws were stretching wide. Jeff saw a cruiser, its weapons firing right into the open gullet of a sounder, engulfed by that dilating hole in space. As the cruiser was swallowed down, the mouth closed. The sounder appeared to shimmer and dissolve, and then was gone.
<
br /> The set piece of navy formation fractured into dozens of separate engagements. Jeff realized that he was in the middle of—and part of—a full-scale naval battle. Even if the ships were not firing at Confluence Center, in the heat of conflict they could easily hit it by accident. He also knew what perhaps Lilah and Connie did not: The weapons of the fleet were either pulses of neutrinos and radiation, traveling at light speed, or they were highly relativistic particle beams, moving only slightly slower than light. In either case, Confluence Center could have no possible warning before a weapon struck.
The sky became a wild tangle of ships and sounders. A few vessels, learning from the experience of their fellows, directed their salvos away from the maws and struck at the sides of the sounders. Each time, the wounded sounder either vanished in a spangled glitter or spun to take the attack on its open maw. Power directed there was absorbed with no apparent effect. The navy ship had a simple choice: Try to flee, or hold position and be swallowed up. Of the dozens who engaged the sounders, only a handful were clever or lucky enough to escape.
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