by Adam Gaffen
“CAG, out.”
Ashlyn relayed the information to Locksmith. Her division continued to monitor the surface but no other ships tried to lift off during their patrol. When Nymeria’s third and fourth divisions came out to replace them thirty minutes later, Ashlyn filled in Bun-Bun and returned to Njord without another thought for the jump ship.
“LIBERTY, THIS SUCKS!”
“Shut up unless you want MinSec, sorry, the Intelligence Council, down on us,” she answered. “The sooner we find that lifepod the sooner we can get back inside.”
Walker turned back to his task.
The lifepod they were searching for had been missing for a half-Lunar now despite the best efforts of the Defense Council. As the days had mounted the pressure applied from the Councilor had mounted as well. Scuttlebutt had it that the Councilor was under pressure as well, though nobody knew what was so important about a single lifepod, not when the entire crew of the Covey had been accounted for.
“Hey, Liberty!”
“What do you want, Mark?”
“What if we’re looking in the wrong area?”
“Then our bosses figure it out and send us somewhere different tomorrow.”
She couldn’t see it but she could almost imagine Walker shaking his head.
“We’ve been out here every day for a week. I got a look at the numbers they’re using to figure out where the lifepod went down, and they got it wrong.”
“You’re saying you’re smarter than Councilor Atkinson?”
“For this? Yes. Listen.”
Liberty stopped her slow progress over the dusty regolith and waited. Walker wasn’t usually serious about anything except how to get out of distasteful jobs, so maybe he was onto something.
“I can give you two minutes.”
He didn’t waste a second on thanking her.
“The lifepod was ejected from the Covey late, about five kilometers above the surface. Tracking had it online for maybe two seconds before it dropped below their horizon, so the rest is guesswork. The problem is they based their numbers on the normal trajectory of a lifepod, one launched from much further up. For those their calculations worked. It’s how we found the other survivors.”
“You going to tell me something new?”
“The Covey was coming in at, what, fifty KPS?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s a bunch of momentum, and the lifepod would have shared that momentum. When it launched, even though it was kicked out and up by the ejection charge, it still had fifty KPS forward motion. The other lifepods, the ones launched by hand, had enough time to kill that momentum before they impacted.”
“Landed, you mean.”
“Impacted. They’re not designed for soft landings, just soft enough not to crack open.”
“Whatever.”
“And the Covey also had a serious angle of incidence; it was coming in hot and steep. The way I figure it, the lifepod was still moving for three or four seconds after the Covey smashed into Scipio City.”
Liberty had it now. “So instead of looking here, ten kilometers sunward, we ought to be looking a couple hundred klicks in that direction.”
She pointed towards the pole.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Think we can persuade the boss to let us check there tomorrow? Because I’m fried for today.”
“Better to ask forgiveness than permission. If I’m right, we’re heroes.”
“And if you’re wrong, we’re dead.”
“And that’s worse than being out here again and again and again how?”
“I do like breathing, Mark.”
“Come on, Liberty! It’ll take us ten minutes, and I’ll bet we’ll be able to pick it up on the scanner before we even touch down. There’s not a lot man-made out that way.”
Maybe it was the six hours they’d already spent in the harsh Lunar sunshine, but it didn’t really require much thought. The prospect of hand-searching the same patch of surface tomorrow and the day after and the day after that was wholly unappealing.
“Let’s go,” Liberty said.
Five minutes later the jump ship had lifted off and was lumbering towards Walker’s best guess location. Eight minutes after that Walker called to Liberty, who was piloting, “Cut the engines! I’ve got a return!”
“You sure?” She was already braking them to a stop.
“Definitely something. Won’t be able to tell what until we’re down, though. Sending you coordinates.”
Liberty Avera might have gotten stuck with ground duty, but it wasn’t because she was a poor pilot. She set her ungainly craft down within a dozen meters of her target and was only offset by that much to avoid a boulder field.
“It sure looks like a lifepod.”
The object was five or six meters long and shaped somewhat like a truncated cone, tilted heavily to one side.
“I’m going to try to wake it,” Walker said. “Transmitting.”
Their wait was short.
“Got its identifier beacon!” whooped Walker. “It’s from the Covey!”
Liberty was already on the radio back to the base. Their job was to find the thing, not bring it back. Someone else could have that duty; she was ready for a night off.
“Nice work, Mark,” she said after she’d cleared the channel. “When we get back, I’m buying.”
“Damn right.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Council Chambers, Artemis City
First Councilor Phalkon stood from behind her desk with a broad smile.
“Kreitzer, Michael, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.” The two officials looked at each other with identical expressions of wariness.
“Oh, please,” Phalkon said, still smiling. “I realize I may not have been the easiest person to deal with, but I’m no ogre!”
Their expressions still wary they settled into the offered chairs. Phalkon followed.
“The past lunars have been challenging,” she said, demonstrating a heretofore unrevealed skill at understatement. Newling snorted despite himself and her smile grew yet broader.
“Better.” The wattage in the smile subsided slightly as she grew more serious. “I’ve been following your reports and wanted to check in with you on the projects we discussed. First, though, I’ll add my own information. The Martians have agreed to release their fleet to the use of the Union and will be in position to threaten the Federation when the other prongs of our plan come to fruition. The addition of their eighteen ships will provide an axis of attack they cannot afford to disregard.”
The wattage stepped up again. “Now, Michael. Your turn.”
Kreitzer nodded and cleared his throat. “Certainly, First –”
“Informal, Kreitzer. Call me Tal.”
“Very well, Tal. We have tested the warp mines. With our current capacitors and warp generators, we can produce a static warp bubble five thousand kilometers across for point eight seconds.”
“Is that sufficient to burn out a drive?”
“Yes, Fir—Tal. Anything more than the most fleeting interaction between fields will result in the destruction of both drives. Also, we managed to include a fusion plant to recharge the capacitor, if the mine fails to interact with a field, but the process takes several hours to reach a full charge.”
“Still, that’s excellent progress, Kreitzer! Are they in production yet?”
“We’ve been producing the parts, but not assembling them just yet.”
“Assemble them, please, Kreitzer. And Michael, I will count on you to deploy them so as to be the most inconvenient to the Federation.”
Atkinson frowned. “How many will we have?”
Both turned to Newling, who answered, “We will be able to produce eight almost immediately, with another six per lunar on a continuing basis.”
“That’s not enough for a minefield,” Atkinson said. “And we can’t approach their habitat without being noticed. How large are
these?”
“Cylinders, five meters wide, thirteen meters long.”
“Impossible to get them closer than a half light-second, then. We can’t enclose the habitat, not for, um, at least two years at that production rate.”
“What about a trap?”
“Trap?”
“Lure their starship into a location of our choosing?”
“Possible. It would have to be irresistible bait.”
“The al-Battani,” said Phalkon. “How soon can he be deployed?”
“He’s ready for a deployment now, but the Federation’s threat?”
“Oh, yes. Their promise to shoot him down when he launches? Could he go to warp close to the surface, too soon for them to react?”
“Theoretically, yes, but we’d want him at least a hundred klicks above the surface; any closer and he’d take some of the regolith into warp with him.”
“This discussion is all premature,” Newling said. “We won’t have the mines ready for at least a half-lunar!”
“Michael, how long could the al-Battani be deployed?”
“With another day to load supplies, up to two lunars.”
“And if we cut the crew to a minimum?”
“Minimum?” Atkinson juggled the numbers. “Four lunars, if necessary. But why a minimum crew?”
“We can build more ships, but could we use the al-Battani to attack their habitat? Drop out of warp at a point they couldn’t react in time?”
Atkinson struggled to keep the shock from his face. “Tal, we only have the one warp ship!”
“And they have only the one habitat, from which they can effectively control the space around Luna. I would trade them evenly a thousand times over.”
It was a valid point, Atkinson admitted to himself. He hated the idea of deliberately destroying a warp ship, one which they’d struggled to create, but to remove the Njord?
“I see your logic, Tal. I would want to talk to the crew, though.”
“No. The captain, of course, but not the crew.” She held up a restraining hand. “I hate the thought too, but losing the ship to a mutiny would be more damaging than losing a minimal crew.”
“I have to agree,” Kreitzer added. “From what we found out the day of the rebellion, our crews are less loyal than we believe them to be. Minimizing the human element makes sense.”
Reluctantly Atkinson nodded.
“Thank you. Figure out where Kreitzer’s mines will be deployed, plan with the al-Battani their approach, and get them away as soon as possible, with a return of a lunar from now. Will that be sufficient, Kreitzer?”
“A lunar and a half would be better.”
“Michael? Can they endure, with the minimal crew?”
“Yes,” he said. “Their departure vector should be such as their starship will have no choice but to follow. Perhaps towards 40 Eridani.”
“I leave the details to you. And the fighters? I understand you’ve produced a number of them already? And what are you calling them?”
“Fifteen, so far. We’ve named them Scorpions, for their sting, and we’re training our pilots in simulators. The embargo,” he explained.
“Fifteen? That’s a good start!” Atkinson, unused to the praise, shifted uneasily. “Which design did you settle on?”
He pulled a padd out and called up an image. It was a long, wide ship, with a cockpit forward, flaring out to two stubby wings before narrowing to a pair of engines.
“Thirty-two meters long, twelve wide, three high. One laser, mounted under the cockpit. Pilot and co-pilot, seated front and back. The wings can mount four missiles, two up, two down, but we don’t have those in production yet. They’ll be small, though. The rest is engine and fusion plant and compensators.”
“Why two crew?”
“Only one is necessary,” Atkinson said. “But adding a second seat will allow us to train faster as we increase our squadrons.”
“Oh, excellent thinking, Michael. How powerful is the laser?”
“They’re the same as the Gemini-class frigates, 500 kW.”
“Quite a punch. And what acceleration can they achieve?”
“Up to 250g.”
Phalkon’s face wrinkled in thought, then she frowned. “Faster than their Wolves, but slower than the Direwolves. It’s better than nothing at all, though, and quantity has a quality all its own. How quickly can you build more?”
“Now we’ve worked out the bugs, we’re receiving two a day.”
The smile returned full force.
“Wonderful, wonderful! Then if we can maintain this rate, by the time the trap is ready for the Federation we’ll have over a hundred fighters to throw at them as well?”
“Correct.”
Phalkon looked like she had just received her favorite gift.
“I think September will be a most unpleasant month for the Federation, gentlemen.”
And there was nothing warm in that smile at all, at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tycho Under
“You mind explaining your statement, Mike?”
The discussion had been briefly tabled. Mike was certain of his conclusion but admitted he might not have all the data. They made connecting him to his supplemental molycirc as well as the Q-Net priorities. In the meanwhile Stone, Nour, Newling, and Jordan discussed the progress of the revolution.
Overall Stone thought it was going well, at least based upon what Nour provided. She trusted Nour more than Newling for the simple reason Newling was a politician, through and through, while Nour was an agent. She was used to getting out into the population and listening for clues and cues; her life had depended on it, after all.
If Stone were forced, she’d admit that Nour impressed her. There was a special kind of courage involved in being in the crowd, largely unarmed save for your wits, and she’d been doing it for years. Now, with the stakes higher still, she’d matched the peril with skill to keep their revolution abreast of the mood of the Loonies.
“Certainly, Master Chief. Logically, now is the time for the Union to strike. They have suffered grave setbacks in the outer warrens, losing control of them all, yet they still retain control over Artemis City. As long as they retain their stronghold, we cannot overwhelm them with bodies alone.”
“So? That’s been true for a month.”
“Yes, but our arrival on Luna tips the balance as they know it.”
“How? Unless they have spies in Tycho Under?”
“A statistical certainty, Master Chief, but irrelevant for this discussion.”
“Irrelevant?” burst in Newling. “Irrelevant? You’re telling me there are traitors to our cause right here in Tycho and they’re irrelevant?”
“Yes, Mistress Newling, as they cannot have relayed any information to their controls as of yet. If we were having this discussion tomorrow, then I would concede they might have an impact on Artemis’ decision. We are not. Therefore I maintain they are irrelevant.”
“Autumn,” Stone said gently. “You haven’t worked with an Alpha before; I have. I trust their abilities and judgement. If Mike says it’s irrelevant, then it’s irrelevant. Let him finish.”
“Whatever. Go on.”
“Thank you, Mistress Newling. The deciding factor are the ships which will soon be patrolling on your behalf over the warrens you control. Until now, the one irrefutable advantage Artemis had over you was their ships. With them they controlled entry to your warrens, reinforcement, resupply, and even maintained the threat of nuclear attack.”
“But the Federation has been providing CAP for weeks,” argued Nour.
“And they have been flexible in their enforcement of it, gradually increasing their stringency and reducing the freedom of movement for Artemis. However, Starfleet has never committed more than a dozen Direwolves to CAP at any one time for logistical reasons, relying on Njord and the starships to provide backup for anything the fighters cannot handle. That provides Artemis with a window of opportunity.”
�
�Why haven’t they done anything, then?” asked Jordan. “If this window has been open for all these weeks?”
“I see two possibilities. Either they were satisfied with the knowledge the window existed but had no reason to use it, or they planned to use it but had not yet determined the optimal attack. I mentioned the threat of nuclear weapons; this must be regarded as a weapon of last resort, as any warren hit by a nuclear-tipped Huygens missile would be catastrophically depressurized. Nearly the entire population of that warren will be killed, and what structures survive the blast will be heavily irradiated. While they might succeed in stopping the revolution by the expedient of killing every participant, the economic and sociopolitical impact of such an action would be equally fatal to Artemis.”
“So why worry now? Either they didn’t want to or couldn’t, and now that chance is gone.”
“That chance is going, Mistress Newling, not gone. There still remains a window for a successful attack if they are determined and desperate enough. If the Empress feels she is directly threatened by the new ship deployment I calculate an 84.3 percent chance she will act irrationally and launch a nuclear strike.”
Newling and Nour paled.
“What if we sent the ships back? Would we reduce the risk?” Newling asked.
“Fractionally at best, Mistress Newling. The presence of the reinforcing ships, specifically those ships, will have produced severe psychological impacts on the Union leadership. Removing them is, if I have the idiom correct, closing the barn door after the horses have run away.”
“Something like that,” Stone said. “Now, they aren’t officially attached to you, Autumn, but their purpose is to defend against threats the Direwolves can’t handle.”
“The Master Chief is correct, Mistress Newling. Withdrawing them would weaken your defenses. I apologize, I did not mention the odds of the Union succeeding in their attack. With the ships present, the odds of at least one warren being destroyed in an attack is 13.2%. If the ships are withdrawn, the odds increase to 27.5%, and the odds of two or more warrens being destroyed is 10.7%.”