“Without sensors, we can’t tell for sure. The shockwaves seem to come from the same direction every time, so we’ve got the ship pointed straight into them to minimize structural damage.”
“I need to get back on deck,” Jeph said. “I’m the backup engineer and maybe I can help get sensors working. We’ve got to get this figured out.”
“You need to ride out the next wave here on your back,” Danel said, setting his hand in the middle of the commander’s chest and pushing him gently back down onto the bed. “I’ll get Anju to come talk to you as soon as that’s over and if she says you’re good to go—”
“You tell her I will be leaving MedBay, whether she says I can or not,” he said.
Government Residential Hub: Galileo Station:
The Archer hung just outside the Earthward Docks, visible in the distance as a dark spot against the limb of the Earth. It wasn’t at all unusual for a Fleet multicruiser to be close to Galileo, but still it attracted more attention than Chancellor Roja liked given the ill winds blowing through the station’s ventilators.
Admiral Nakamiru had insisted that they bring the Archer in close, explaining that if things went against her in the SDS, she might need a place to remain beyond the immediate reach of the Executive Council. As long as the ship remained undocked, it was still an independent jurisdiction of FleetCom and would technically be a safe harbor for her regardless of which way the typhoon blew. After someone dumped that body on the Pegasus, she didn’t trust any level of security, but having a loyal crew around her would be a blessing.
She’d held her last strategy meeting with Aryk Rasmussen and was confident that Ariqat and Tomlinson weren’t ready for the fight she was bringing to the table. They started the battle, but she planned to nuke them clear out of the arena. Even knowing she was ready to counterstrike against Ariqat, her concerns had ratcheted up to a full-blown paranoia. It left her locked in isolation, staring out the window and alone in her thoughts.
Her comlink chirped. She ignored it, since nothing would be important enough to need her attention this evening. All she wanted to do was get through the night and tomorrow. Sighing, she heaved herself up from her seat and glanced around the lounge. She made her way to the bar, tipped out the autobot and ordered a bottle of Glenlivet sent to her residence.
Nodding to her escorts, she headed into the corridor. Since the SDS was less than twelve hours away, the press corps was circling like vultures in a hot zone. There were at least five reporters who followed her in, and only gave her any room because her escort guards looked meaner than they felt ambitious. But as soon as she set into motion they’d swarm her, swinging into step and hoping for a moment of her time.
Her security detail took up their usual formation and the media hoard tried to look casual, following her as she strolled through the promenade. She managed to put on a professional face. Although she hated the mask, she’d learned from studying Arun that it helped to keep the wolves happy and more importantly, from trying to eat her.
“Is that an hourglass?” she said, stopping in front of a small shop to look at an ancient glass artifact.
The owner stood in the doorway beneath a sign: ‘Curee Ohs and Whatevers.’ “Old Joe told me, yah. But would hang by gravity, I’d say. Might be ninety minutes at this spin.” He reached inside and picked it up from the display. “Is nice, but breaky,” he said, holding it out cautiously in her direction.
“Is real glass, no?” she asked, taking and examining it. It looked authentic. “From Earth?”
“Nojo. Real wood and hard sandglass.” He grinned and tried not to look too nervous as she handled the antique that was likely the prize of his shop.
“Where from?” She knew he probably didn’t know, but it looked to be pricey and if she was serious, she’d need to know. It would make a wonderful conversation piece.
“Eurozone somewise. Italia maybe?” He looked like he wanted to put the piece back in his display window. He held his hand out, but she hung on to it.
“Looks more Austrian,” she said, holding the hourglass so her security captain could look. He wouldn’t know, but he made appropriate noises. “How much?”
The shopkeeper blinked several times. “Wasn’t selling,” he said. “Is a door stopper. Good at it too.”
She laughed at his honesty. “Everything sells with enough cred. What’s it take?”
“Nojo?” He said his face serious as a coronary patient. “Cred or chit?”
“Up to you,” she said. “Tell me and I’ll let you know what I’m packing. You talk smart-like and I make your week.” She seldom had the chance to bargain on the promenade and she realized it was one thing she still loved from the old days. Knowing that tomorrow her reality would change, whether she won or lost in the SDS, she needed to enjoy the moment. Glancing over the shoulder of the vendor, she saw one of the press corps scanning the exchange on his handheld. She winked and grinned at him before she turned her attention back to the shopkeeper.
“So what’s your chop here, Pa?” she asked, dropping into dock slango and almost laughing as her guards gasped. “I wanna swing and got cred eating its way loose. We dealin’ or what?”
He froze a moment and then let his hand fall. “Thirty-six fifty, paper. Five K, chit. No wiggle.”
“No wiggle? Don’t be dirty Pa.” She shook her head. “Anyjoe wiggles.” She handed the hourglass to her guard captain and reached into her pocket, pulling out a fold of cash. “Three K and two extra if you bubble it up for me.”
He shook his head. She unfolded cred and watched his face. As she progressed, she slowed down. When she got to 3000, he looked down. “Deal, but you’re breakin’ my bag, Madam Chancellor.”
“I know, but you’ll eat well this month.” She smiled, peeling another few bills off her stack and slipping them in his jumper front.
When he disappeared inside to get a bubble box, she shrugged and smiled at her captain. “When he digs that out of his clothes he’ll feel better about giving in. I gave him a fair price. I just like playing the game, ya scan?”
She felt better if for no other reason than that she did a good deed for the shopkeeper and his kids. He reappeared carrying a box with a beautiful, carved, slide-out front. Someone had obviously crafted it for the hourglass. He held the box open while she took the antique and slipped it into its spot. As he slid the lid closed, he smiled sadly at her. His eyes told her he didn’t want to sell the piece, but he appreciated that she’d given him his full asking chit price, but in paper.
She leaned in close to him as she took the box and asked, “You owned this a long while. Grown attached, eh?”
“Was my grandmother’s,” he admitted. “Give it respect, if you can. Think she’d be good knowing who’s taking care of it now.”
“What was her name?” she asked.
“Gwendolyn,” he said.
“Gwendolyn’s Glass,” she said. “I’ll call it that from now on, because it is important to honor memories like this one. I’ll keep the memory alive for you.” The shine in his eyes said more than his words could.
She tucked the box carefully under her arm and turned toward her quarters.
Memories do matter.
Jakob Waltz: Neptune L-4 Trojan Cluster:
Jeph felt weak and worthless. He tried to make it through the shockwaves awake, but as he felt each one kick him in the head, he doubted he’d reach the end with his consciousness intact. Somewhere along the way, darkness took him again.
Realizing the demonic pounding was over, he pried his eyes open and stared at the display over his bed. Six hours? That can’t be right.
Anju floated in and watched him, disapproval visible on her face. “You’re not going to let me talk you into waiting another day are you?”
Groaning, he rolled out of the bed and pushed himself over to the protective shell of his exosuit. “I can’t,” he said as the autovalet wrapped him in the hard casing of his exoskeleton. “I don’t dare give in. If I do it proves t
hey were right to pass me over for a real commission.” Slipping his feet into his maglock boots he anchored himself to the floor and waited as the arms completed the rest of the process.
“This isn’t about proving yourself to anyone,” she said. “Your bones and circulatory system are the product of living your life in light-gravity. That isn’t debatable and you know it.”
“I also know FleetCom has never given command of a multicruiser to an ecto,” he said. “After fighting that for twenty years, I’m not ready to admit they were right. If I don’t get back to work, it’ll eat me alive. I have to push through this or I might as well give up and go be a rock farmer.” He shook his head and winced. His brain felt like it was banging against the inside of his skull.
The autovalet arms retracted and he stepped forward, clicking his heels down on the deck. He looked at his feet and thought about it for a second. Having grown up in the near freefall, ultra-light-gravity of an asteroid colony, it was alien to find the idea of floating weightless terrifying. But that was exactly what he felt.
“It’s the head trauma and the suddenness of what happened,” Anju said, apparently recognizing what he was thinking. “It will fade in time.”
“And I’ll deal with it until it does,” he said. He despised that he had to have a firm connection to the floor to feel safe. Walking out of MedBay, he planted his boots on the deck and with each step scanned for things that might become dangerous edges if he wasn’t stuck hard enough to the floor.
Rather than floating, he rode the lift rail up the center of the chute to the ConDeck. He made sure his grip was double-looped around the tow strap and his boot completely seated in the stirrup. When he arrived at the ConDeck, he grabbed the rail before he turned loose. Chei and Kiro floated near the pilot station while Seva and Rocky were at an engineering console, going over an image of what looked like the remains of the HDA.
No one heard him arrive until his boots clicked onto the deck plating. Nor were there any raised eyebrows as he walked over and sat down, cinching the seat straps tightly into place.
“Welcome back,” Kiro said, pulling himself into a seat.
“Good to be back,” he said, aware that the others were anchoring themselves into seats around him out of sympathy for his discomfort. “Status report?”
The engineer turned to face him. “Primary computer core is down. High Definition Sensor Array is down, and will require major reconstruction to repair. We have completed repairs on minor structural damage to external storage racks. Long-range com is operational on limited basis. All other systems functioning within spec.”
Jeph nodded and winced as the pain came back, reminding him not to do that until his brain was feeling more normal. “Have we sent out a D-call update to the Sit-Alert?”
“Negative,” Rocky said. “Com has only been operational for last six hours and Doctor advised you had regained consciousness. I thought it your place to decide, since call for help would invite other ships into what may be trap.”
“Valid point,” he said. “Have you sent any coms yet?”
She shook her head. “Ship is functional and other than crew injuries, I did not know what to advise as to status.”
He turned to face Chei. “What do we know about what hit us?” He tried to smile. That hurt too.
“Not much in fact,” he said. “Danel and I have been working on a theory.”
“Last I remember, we were talking about a wormhole and the firehose of death,” Jeph said. “Is this a new idea, since the damn thing started throwing Thor’s hammer at us?”
“It’s the idea he was keeping secret, before that started,” Danel said.
“Is it something you can explain without making my head hurt worse?” the commander asked.
“I think so,” Chei said. Behind him Danel was shaking his head hard enough that just watching it gave Jeph a wave of brainache. “When this whole thing started, I realized that it’s not affecting things that are moving in a static trajectory. When we’re coasting along in orbit, it isn’t doing anything to us. But when we try to accelerate, it’s like something’s bleeding off our applied force.”
“I don’t understand,” the commander said.
“Whatever it is seems to be affecting force somehow, as distinct from momentum. That says to me it’s not gravity from an object, but some other phenomenon that only acts against the second order derivative of velocity rather than the first order component of inertia.”
“What would do that?” Jeph said, hoping to pull the answer back to a language he understood.
“That’s the real question,” Chei said. He grabbed a thinpad out of his pocket and tossed it to the commander. Mathematical formulae covered it. It wouldn’t have made sense to him on a good day, let alone one day out of a coma.
“I was thinking that the local vacuum energy is not constant and something is creating a flux in the density of the quantum foam. This might cause some kind of spacetime damping effect that’s sinking our applied force. The more we kick against it, the more energy it sucks up, and the harder it holds us in place.”
“Do you follow him?” Jeph asked, looking at Danel hopefully.
He shook his head. “Not a word.”
“Basically, it would work like quantum quicksand,” Chei said. “The more it gets disturbed, the deeper we sink.”
“In that case, would more ships out here make it worse?”
“Maybe.” Chei shrugged. “That might actually make a good case to not call for help. At least until we know for sure.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Executive Council Chamber: Galileo Station: Lunar Lagrange One:
On any occasion the Executive Council Chamber was a solemn venue, or at least it was in theory. On most days it was dull and boring to those who worked inside it, but this morning it felt electric. An ominous static filled the air as the chancellors filed in to their seats in the minutes before the session was scheduled to begin.
Katryna had her usual small stack of thinpads on her desk in front of her and drummed her fingertips on them as she waited. She was almost looking forward to the beating she was about to deliver.
She and Aryk Rasmussen spent the greater part of the last ten days making sure she had all the documentation she needed to defend herself no matter which way the session played out. Her legal advisor was a shrewd tactician and was encouraged that a formal declaration of charges hadn’t arrived before the session.
In his opinion, Ariqat intended the meeting to call her out publicly. He apparently hoped to shock the Chancellery into an emotional alliance against her, rather than pushing for her immediate expulsion. That meant he knew he was standing on weak charges.
She wasn’t worried, because she was ready. The ghost fleet was her big sucker punch and she wasn’t afraid to haul it out and pound him through the deck with it.
She scanned the room making eye contact with each of the chancellors, lingering just long enough on each face to express curiosity and concern, but not long enough to arouse suspicion. The only chancellor that showed understanding was Arun Markhas. As far as she knew, he was the only other one who understood the actual intent of these proceedings. He was also, potentially, the real guilty party even though nothing in his demeanor showed a trace of concern that he might be accused.
At precisely 0930 all the seats were filled. Except one.
“Does anyone know where Chancellor Ariqat is?” Prime Minister Ambrose asked, her tone carrying a hint of annoyance. Several of the Chancellors shook their heads and Katryna kept her eyes on the table in front of her. Even without looking up, she could feel Arun glaring at her.
“Because this is a Sealed Docket Session, we cannot call to order without him being present,” the Prime Minister said. “Nobody knows where he is?”
Once again, nobody spoke up.
“Off the record, does anyone know what Chancellor Ariqat intended with this Session?”
Chancellor Tomlinson cleared his throat. Katryna’s heart
stopped.
The Prime Minister nodded in his direction.
“Of course, he has not spoken to me about the session today, but I know he is concerned about a severe violation of Union Law on the part of one of the members of the Chancellery,” he said.
“Did he indicate what kind of violation?” the Prime Minister asked.
“Intercartel espionage and sedition,” he said.
Several members of the council gasped. She rapped her gavel on her desk to regain order in the room.
“Did he tell you who he planned to accuse?” the Prime Minister asked, her face showing her disbelief.
Chancellor Tomlinson locked eyes with Katryna for several seconds before he answered. “No, he did not.”
He’s lying. She heard Arun grunt almost inaudibly. He was studying Tomlinson and he’d obviously reached the same conclusion as she had.
“If this is true, we have a very serious problem,” Arun said. “Even an allegation of this sort would create a crisis of faith in the Union of unprecedented proportion.”
The door to the Council chamber burst open and two squads of Galileo Security officers marched in, taking up positions on both sides of the room. The captain of the contingent stepped up to the Prime Minister and whispered something to her. She nodded, shock playing across her face.
The captain turned and addressed the chancellors. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please excuse the intrusion, but last night at around 2210 hours Chancellor Ariqat was removed from Galileo Station.” A still image from a security optic appeared on the main screen behind the Prime Minister. “This is an image of the three unidentified men who overpowered his security detail and apparently abducted him. We have no information as to the identities of the kidnappers or their motives, but they left the station in an unregistered vessel and have since dropped off the sensor net.”
He turned to face Katryna and went on, “Chancellor we’d like to request that you assign the multicruiser Archer to pursue the vessel along its last known course. We have no long-range craft in our security fleet and it has already exceeded our ability to pursue. If you are willing, my commander can forward the heading and description of the ship to your captain immediately.”
Shan Takhu Legacy Box Set - With an Extra Bonus Story Page 10