A Night Without Stars (71 page)

“We're not going to the farmhouse,” Paula said.

“What?”

“I have been considering options. We not only need to buy time, we also need to safeguard Port Chana. Neither of those things will happen if we go back to the farmhouse.”

“Why not?”

“Our original plan didn't account for the Fallers acquiring nukes. Now we know they have them and are more than willing to use them, so we have to circumvent them.”

“By not going home?”

“Exactly. They have clearly infiltrated the government to at least the same degree that your friends have. I saw Roxwolf's connections, and that was a rejected Faller in an outlying city. So we can't risk opening negotiations with Adolphus, because they'll find out. If they even have a hint of where we might be, they'll detonate a bomb there. And everyone knows Port Chana is the center of Eliter resistance to the government. They will blow it off the face of the planet.”

Kysandra gave her an unenthusiastic nod. “Okay, so we don't go to the farmhouse. Where then?”

“A place where we can activate all the Commonwealth machines without panicking the Fallers into launching their Apocalypse. A place where we will never be spotted, even by accident.”

“So?” Kysandra demanded. “Where?”

“Macule.”

“You've got to be crudding kidding me! Macule is a radioactive desert.”

“Not relevant. Commonwealth technology can protect us from a little radiation. And as soon as we're up and running, we can feed local minerals into the refineries to build the sensor satellites that'll analyze the Valatare barrier. That's not possible on Aqueous, which is the only H-congruous world. All its minerals are at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Giu! You're really not kidding, are you?”

“That's not my strongest trait, no.”

Kysandra glanced down the tilted compartment at the ANAdroids. “I suppose you lot agree?”

“It's logical,” Demitri said without turning around. “Paula knows what she's doing.”

Kysandra's arms went up in surrender. “Bollocks. Macule it is.”

Ry arrived next. He grinned in delight when Kysandra explained Paula's change of plan. “My astronaut corps friends are going to be so envious. I will be the first of us to set foot on another world.”

“First of many if this works,” Paula said.

They tracked Florian's progress as the ANAdroids finished reassembling the wormhole generator. He was still eleven minutes out when Demitri announced: “Ready to power up.”

“Do we wait for him?” Ry inquired.

“No,” Paula said.

They all gripped the gridwork and stared down at the big circular machine. Paula knew her nerves couldn't be written off entirely as teenage hormones. So much depended on this—250-year-old biological machines using someone else's memories to repair machines more than three millennia old. The fate of a world. Nobody had ever thrown the dice so high in human history.

Well…maybe Ozzie.

That conjured up a secretive smile as Demitri initiated the power-up sequence.

Everyone held their breath. The wormhole generator emitted the tiniest humming noise.

“Mass converter online and functional,” Demitri said. “We have power.”

Paula was struck by just how much like Nigel he sounded. She hadn't noticed before.

“Bringing the gateway up to full activation readiness.”

Paula's nerves were overtaken by excitement. She'd gone through tens of thousands of wormholes in her enormous previous lifetime—so many it was utterly mundane. This, though…This reminded her of just how extraordinary the whole concept was. Warping the very fabric of the universe for human convenience.

“Force field on,” Valeri said. “We are shielded.”

In front of her, the blank circular face of the wormhole generator began to flicker with hazy turquoise phantasms, slivers that hovered on the edge of existence.

“Initiating spacetime compression,” Demitri announced.

The phantom streaks merged together, forming a circle of elusive indigo radiance. It was impossible for the human eye to focus on the phenomenon; the light was shifting, extending back into infinity at the same time as it remained in place.

“Is that it?” an awed Kysandra asked. “A wormhole?”

“No. What you're seeing is Cherenkov radiation,” Fergus said. “The start of a wormhole.
This
is a wormhole.”

As he spoke, the eerie light vanished, draining back in a single disorienting lurch. Paula instinctively increased her grip on the gridwork, fighting the impression she was moving. The last sparkle of Cherenkov luminescence at the center of the wormhole vanished and a ripple of blackness spread out.

Ry turned to her, his face appealing silently.

“Yes,” she told him. “It's a hole through space.”

“We're opening the terminus five hundred kilometers above Lukarticar,” Demitri said. “Systems stable.”

A bright white line slowly slipped across the open wormhole—the terminator, cutting Lukarticar in half. Long serpentine strands of the aurora undulated majestically across the night side, vanishing into daylight.

“You're now looking down on yourself from a great height,” Demitri said with a small smile. “And in case you think that's seriously weird, if we had time to play I could open the terminus directly behind you. That way you can look at the back of your own head. Trust me, that really messes with human perception. Let you in on a secret: That's what we did the very first time Ozzie and I fired up our machine. We didn't actually extend the terminus to Mars until a couple of hours later, after we'd checked out our designation coordinate software. There's a lot of factors to manipulate simultaneously. We had to hack time on the college supercomputer to—”

“Enough,” Paula snapped. “Is it fully functional?”

“Yes.”

“Please shift the terminus to Macule.”

Florian could barely move off the skis. Both legs were an agony of cramps. An exovision map showed him the surviving seibears carrying the last bomb, their icon perilously close to his.

The icequake and storm wave had changed the shape of the snowfield above the
Viscount,
so that he could have been anywhere. But five meters away, two pairs of skis identical to his had been stuck vertically into the puckered surface, and already fresh snow had accumulated low cones around them. He half waddled to the hole in the snow they were standing sentry over. The shifting borealis light showed him the way. As he shuffled forward, rumpled snow beneath his feet turned from emerald to rose-pink then shaded down to blue as deep as a twilight ocean. The hole remained a constant black, its sides crusted with ice.

I'm supposed to clamber down that?

Resentment was burning hot in his mind. Resentment that no one had come up to greet him, to help him. Surely Kysandra would have…

“I'm here,” he told them through the general link.

“Get down here fast,” Kysandra responded immediately.

“How?” He didn't mean to ask. It was weak, he knew. But after everything he'd been through, would it have killed her to show just the tiniest degree of sympathy?

“Just jump,” Paula said. “Use your force field to cushion your landing.”

Florian stood on the rim, rocking in the wind. The hole seemed to grow, its darkness intensifying. And he'd had enough of being in black spaces beneath the snow tonight. Another thirty minutes and it would be dawn.

Like that's going to help.

“Hey,” Kysandra said. “I'm waiting for you, Florian. The wormhole is working. Please. Take a leap of faith.”

He jumped.

The ride was awful; every ripple in the ice seemed to catch him, and the juddering never stopped. He couldn't move his arms—they were pinned to his sides—and the claustrophobia was vicious. He was terrified he was going to wind up jammed in the hole just like the Faller-giant.

Then his feet cleared the bottom of the shaft and the force field flared out. He landed hard, and his mistreated legs gave way.

Arms closed around him, helping him to his feet—which was painful. Waves of red hair swished across his face. His e-m suit helmet retracted and the red hair was tickling his skin. Through the jumble of tresses, he saw a mouth open wide in a smile, then a kiss.

“Welcome back,” she murmured contentedly into his ear.

Then he was stumbling through the plyplastic door into HGT54b. He stopped in shock, a half smile of wonder on his face. He was looking into a circle of daylight that shone across the interior. It was advancing slowly down the compartment, and the cargo pods and crates were passing through it, then tumbling away to the side, landing in a jumbled pile on a gray desert that went on forever.

“That's not the farmhouse,” he said numbly.

“No,” she agreed. “It's definitely not. E-m suit hood back on, and your force field. Let's go.”

Then she took his hand, and led him into the light.

Anala came back over the south pole and stared down in mortification at the radiant mushroom cloud that was rising over Lukarticar. It straddled the terminator, casting a filthy orange radiance across the night side.

She hadn't seen the first one go off a few hours back, but the angry storm it created was evidence enough—pitiless winds assaulting the massive curtain of thick warm cloud. A mighty atmospheric battle illuminated by the cold delicate light of the aurora, as if an iridescent sea were rushing across the bottom of the world.

“Ry,” she'd called into the microphone. “Come in, Ry.” A dozen times she called, a hundred, repeated on each subsequent orbit.

Now this new atrocity had darkened the aurora, and once more the ground was smothered with belligerent, agitated clouds.

“Ry, are you there? Are you alive? Anyone? Can anyone down there hear me?”

There was no answer. Not on that orbit, or any of the seven that followed.

After that, she obediently followed flight com's instructions and fired the main service module rockets, braking her speed below orbital velocity. The command module began its long reentry plunge down through the atmosphere.

“Ry?”

The convoy of three Zikker limousines and their escort of Varlan Regiment troop carriers and PSR cars swept along Bryan-Anthony Boulevard. Stonal was in the first Zikker with the curtains drawn across the darkened windows, preventing anyone from looking in and seeing the prime minister sitting in the back. The other two Zikkers also had their curtains shut, but they were empty. Having three identical limousines drive together was an elaborate extension of the shell game, played for real by the security detail in charge of Adolphus's safety.

“I'm going to have my office issue a press D-restriction covering Operation High Bird,” Stonal said as they sped past the statue of Slvasta at the intersection with Victory Regiment Avenue. “There's not a lot of contact between Cape Ingmar and the rest of our population, but an unscheduled spaceflight mission is extraordinary news, especially at this time. It could leak.”

Adolphus nodded slowly. “People are smarter than we give them credit for.”

“Very possibly, sir.” Once again Stonal had to hold himself back from comment. This new Adolphus was an enigma. He made decisions that wouldn't have been countenanced ten days ago, before stepping into the space machine for treatment. They were often the correct decisions, given the perilous times they now found themselves in, but Stonal was having trouble concealing his growing alarm at how much the prime minister had changed.

“I'm considering if we shouldn't just tell them the truth. In a few instances, of course.”

“Sir?”

“The Faller Apocalypse is about to begin. It might be hard for us to conceal that from them, don't you think?”

“The panic and mistrust would be overwhelming. It is imperative we retain complete control for this fight.”

“Times they are a-changing, my friend. You acknowledged that yourself.”

“Yes. They will change. And if we defeat the Apocalypse, our political structure will no doubt undergo profound realignment. But you would be frightening everybody if you tell them straight-out that the Fallers have stolen our nuclear weapons and are already using them. A panicked people are not a people respectful of authority. We will need compliance from the entire population if we are to defeat the Fallers. Selfishness and individualism will not win the day. My dear father always said that was the Commonwealth's greatest weakness, allowing their citizens such a loose society.”

“Well, he'd know,” Adolphus said.

There was enough sharpness in the voice for Stonal to glance over in surprise. For a moment the old Adolphus had shown himself—trusting nothing, suspicious, sneering.

What if I'm wrong?
Stonal asked himself. Not that it mattered; his hand had been played. Everything was in motion. In a way, Adolphus was quite right: Individualism in this context was irrelevant. Maintaining strong governance was all that counted.

The convoy drove through the main gates to the palace. Stonal's Zikker peeled away from the other vehicles and carried on through an archway into a courtyard, then turned and went into another, smaller courtyard and drew up underneath a stone portico.

Adolphus climbed out and stood on the bottom step as several of his office executive staff came out to greet him. He gazed around at the tall walls of the courtyard with their long arched windows as if he was puzzled by them.

“Everything all right?” Stonal asked. Even if Adolphus knew what was coming, there was nothing he could do. Not now.

“Fine,” the prime minister said.

“The security cabinet is waiting, sir,” his chief aide said.

“Good. Then let's go.”

The cabinet room was a long ornate chamber on the second floor, with a huge window at one end providing a view out across the private gardens at the rear of the palace. The grounds were still maintained at the same level of excellence as when the Captains ruled Bienvenido. Topiary bushes lined the walkways, fountains played in big ponds, dense hedges marked out smaller ornate flower gardens. An airy white stone summerhouse was perched on a mound half a kilometer away, looking straight back at the palace. Bright scarlet vines with pristine-white flower clusters swaddled its pillars and ventured up across the roof. With the morning sun highlighting the vivid colors of the flowers, it was all very beautiful and peaceful.

A rectangular table of black marble ran the length of the cabinet room. There were twenty seats along both sides. The one with the highest back, right in the middle, was reserved for the prime minister. Today only eight seats were taken.

Terese was sitting opposite the high-backed chair, dressed in a green-and-scarlet robe that wrapped around her body like a protective shell. Unlike the other ministers of the security cabinet, she didn't smile a welcome as Adolphus came in.

“I would like Director Stonal to remain with us,” she said as Adolphus took his chair. “I think the security cabinet deserves a full briefing on the security situation. Don't you, comrade?”

“Of course,” Adolphus said.

Stonal stood by the double doors as the aides closed them.

“I have considerable news from Cape Ingmar—” Adolphus began.

“Excuse me, Prime Minister,” Terese interrupted, “but I choose to exercise my right to ask my comrades for an emergency vote.”

“A vote?” Adolphus asked in surprise. “On what?”

“Confidence in the prime minister.”

The big room was absolutely silent. Power struggles at this level were utterly terrifying; even Stonal was entranced by the play. The senior cabinet ministers were desperately trying to remain impassive, but he could see three of them sweating.

Nobody asked for a vote like this unless they were completely certain of winning it. Promises had been given in backrooms, deals agreed. But discovering if everyone would keep their word didn't happen until it was time for those supremely calculating hands to rise…

“I should shoot the crudding lot of you for treason,” Adolphus growled. He glanced over at Stonal, an eyebrow raised. “Any chance of you doing that for me?”

“No, sir.”

“You have been compromised, comrade,” Terese continued. “You were exposed to unknown Commonwealth technology.”

“Oh, so it's you I should shoot,” Adolphus said, continuing to stare at Stonal. “This is my reward for supporting you all these years? Thanks.” He turned back to Terese. “Whatever he told you is a pile of steaming crud. I'm cured, not contaminated.”

“Your behavior,” Stonal said. “It's wrong. It's been wrong ever since you came out of that machine.”

“What you actually mean is that I can think rationally now I'm not twisted up with worry and fear of dying? Name one thing I've done that's detrimental to this planet. One!”

“It's not what you've done,” Stonal said patiently. “It's the way you did it.”

“Is that a song lyric?”

Stonal flinched, genuinely puzzled. “And you never used to say things like that.”

“As I said: I can see clearly now. I assessed the situation and took the appropriate course of action. If we waited for glorious bureaucrat committees voting on everything, that Liberty would still be back on the launch pad waiting for a consensus.”

“This is irrelevant,” Terese said. “There is no question that the
Pericato
should have been sent after the
Sziu
and the Warrior Angel.”

“What then?” Adolphus demanded, his face flushed with anger. “What have I done wrong?”

“You ordered Major Danny into action on the word of someone thought to be Ry Evine. Even if he hasn't Fallen, we know him to be allied with the Warrior Angel.”

“Pilot Major Em Yulei confirmed the
Sziu
's location on her next pass. And everyone at this table is lining up to ally themselves with the Warrior Angel. I saw the greed in your face, Director Stonal, when you found out about Paula being able to evacuate us to Aqueous.”

“You authorized the use of nuclear weapons with the flimsiest verification,” Stonal said. “It resulted in the loss of the
Pericato,
and the death of everyone on board. Your judgment has become reckless at best.”

“It was a crudding combat situation, you moron! You can't lawyer up after the event. Decisions have to be made. You have to have the guts to make them.”

“Enough!” Terese snapped. “All those who have no confidence in the prime minister, please raise your hand.”

“Don't you crudding dare!” Adolphus shouted. “I still control the party. The membership will vote for my reinstatement by lunchtime. I will fling every one of you into the yellowcake mines! You'll be glowing in the dark as you rot to death!”

Terese stared at him impassively as she raised her hand, and Stonal couldn't help the frisson of worry at the small pause that followed. Then, one by one, the other hands went up.

“You have just killed Bienvenido,” Adolphus said. “I am the only one who knows how to lead us through the Faller Apocalypse.”

“Director Stonal,” Terese said, “please escort comrade Adolphus from the cabinet room. He is to be held in custody—incommunicado—until the security cabinet decides otherwise.”

“I understand,” Stonal said. “This way, please, sir.”

“You can't do this!”

“Sir, if you do not comply, I will have to call for officers to remove you by force. And believe me, that option has been planned for.”

Adolphus took a couple of heavy breaths. For a moment, Stonal thought he was going to launch himself across the table at Terese. Then he gripped the edge of the table and slowly rose. “Contact the Warrior Angel,” he said forcefully. “Talk to Paula.
Listen
to her. She's the only one who can save us now.”

“If the Warrior Angel survived the atom bombs that were detonated as the result of your irresponsible actions, she is free to get in touch with us,” Terese said brittlely. “And I will happily discuss the terms of her surrendering her Commonwealth weapons to our regiments.”

“Idiots, every crudding one of you,” Adolphus jeered, and walked away from the table.

As Stonal escorted him from the cabinet room, he heard Terese say: “Comrades, our first order of business must now be to appoint an interim prime minister.”

Four palace guards were waiting outside, wearing their full ceremonial uniforms and trying not to look nervous. Two of them were section seven operatives. Stonal wanted people he could trust in a situation as momentous as this.

“Comrade Adolphus is to be taken to the holding cell as briefed,” he told them. “You are not to use undue force unless he physically resists.”

“Yes, sir,” the detail sergeant said and saluted.

Adolphus took Stonal's hand. “Be the smart one,” he said urgently. “Keep the door open for Paula. Don't dismiss opportunities for dogma's sake.”

“Why the emphasis on Paula?” Stonal asked with intense curiosity. “She is an unknown factor.”

“She's pure Commonwealth. The Warrior Angel isn't; she just has access to some of their technology.”

“And this is what I find so troubling about you, comrade,” Stonal said sincerely, removing his hand from Adolphus's hold. “These opinions. This flavor of rationalizing. What did the space machine do to you?”

“Cured me.”

“Somehow I doubt that. Not in any fashion I recognize as a cure.”

When he got back into the cabinet room, the vote had been taken. Terese was the new (interim) prime minister. She'd even moved around the table to sit in the high-backed chair.

“I'd like to thank you, Director Stonal,” she said as she gestured for him to sit. “Without you drawing my attention to Adolphus's collusion with the Commonwealth space machine, Bienvenido could have been led down a very dangerous path indeed.”

Stonal raised an eyebrow at how Adolphus was now “colluding,” but that was politicians for you. Obviously Terese had to negate any possibility of Adolphus regaining power, and a denunciation including a litany of previous “crimes” was a time-honored approach to stamp down hard on a dethroned political enemy. “You're welcome, Madam Prime Minister.”

“Now then,” Terese continued, as if what had happened was of no consequence. “We have to consider our response to the events on Lukarticar. The Fallers have our own atomic weapons, and they have no restraint in using them. Do you agree that we are about to see the start of the so-called Apocalypse?”

“It is looking like the arrival of the Commonwealth woman has forced the Faller nests to respond in such an extreme fashion,” Stonal said. “That may be to our advantage.”

“How so?” Terese asked in surprise.

“Turn over any large rock, Madam Prime Minister, and you will see unpleasant insects scurrying out of the light. Paula and the Warrior Angel have turned over a very large rock indeed. We have seen that the Faller nests are more widespread than even the PSR had knowledge of. They clearly have excellent contingency plans to raid our atomic facilities, so no doubt there are other plans drawn up to sabotage essential facilities and transport. Pilot Major Em Yulei's reports of Lukarticar confirmed that Faller variants are dominant off Lamaran. The Faller Apocalypse is a very real threat. They were caught off guard by Paula's arrival, and overreacted, but in doing so they showed us their hand. They are massing out there, but now we are warned. We have been shown what to expect. That gives us a chance to prepare.”

“You mean Operation Reclaim?”

“No, Madam Prime Minister. Not in isolation. We have already enacted travel restrictions in case they tried to bring the stolen bombs into Varlan and our other cities. People know something is badly wrong. They need clear leadership at this time; they need to be given a purpose. I would suggest this is the time for a full-scale response on our part. Go on the offensive before the Fallers have the chance to launch their assault on us.”