Confluence Point (20 page)

"Brian, there are still forty of them out there. I can't help thinking this is a diversion anyway. They're after the Coran shuttles."

"Can I do anything?"

"You've done enough for now; Ham will look after the shuttles. Hold up there, I have a feeling they'll leave the forty on Station once they have what they want and hightail it out. You may have plenty to do then. Meantime I need to consult with Ham."

"Sweet, call me when you need me." He slid back down to a crouch.

The two Corans hadn't waited for their handlers, their swim across the deck leaving the SS well behind. By sub command the shuttle opened at their approach and they shot through the opening like rats to a hole. The doors shut firmly behind them.

So clumsy was their chase the two trailing Russians slammed into the fuselage and with nothing to grip they lost contact with the deck as the shuttle powered up. They could do nothing as it lifted off the deck and began to nudge forward, orienting toward the entrance. One foolishly gripped a handhold as if trying to stop its progress. It was a fatal mistake and though he released it quickly he already had enough uncontrolled momentum to send him flailing toward vacuum.

Lebedev watched in anger and frustration. One minute it seemed complete success was assured, the next minute, disaster.

"The drive," he broadcast on all channels, "All hands secure that drive and get it to the RDB, now!"

Six men were already maneuvering the crated drive across the deck in a slow careful process and they were quickly joined by ten more. Anchoring themselves on any firm hand or foot hold they passed the drive from hand to hand trying to maintain control. As it neared the RDB crew opened the doors wide, however, even though moving slowly its momentum made it difficult to stop. Slowly they brought it to a halt before sliding the crate into the open storage area and securing it. The doors ratcheted closed.

"Attention." Lebedev radioed the troops. "You have done well, we have secured the first objective, your task now is to penetrate and secure the Station. We must return the package to Piesetsk. The battle still rages outside - however we will prevai. Fight well and secure the Station for Russia."

It was a ruse. Under the circumstances the SS action would simply create another diversion while they raced for atmosphere. They were expendable - the drive was not.

Lebedev nodded to the pilot who took charge without hesitation. A quick check on the action outside the decks and he ordered immediate takeoff. Both RDBs lifted carefully off the deck and drifted out toward space. As if diving off a platform they sailed out only the minimum distance before dropping toward atmosphere and powering up to maximum speed. Behind them the screen of RDFs would sacrifice themselves to buy them time.

Brian, oblivious to the action outside sat comfortably now, with gravity and atmosphere restored. Helmet off for the moment he waited calmly for the next instructions from Hilary.

"Brian . . . could be action soon. They've left their troopers here. The craft have departed with the shuttle drive."

"So what happens now?" He lifted his helmet, looking at it with distaste.

"We wait for them to try to break in again, I'll tell you where."

Brian considered that for a moment, never a man to take unnecessary risks.

"You could just flush them," he shrugged casually.

"Flush them?" Hilary asked.

"Yeah, just restore the field screens, pump up the atmospheric pressure, then open a hole. I'd make it quite a small hole but I guess that's up to you."

"I . . . I'm not sure I could do that."

"Why not, they want to take the Step, do you really think they'll spare you?"

"Well, they can only really push me out; can't we just get them to surrender?"

"Hilary, they'll be special forces, even if we capture them they'll do whatever they can to take control. You might not die, but
some
people could." He paused tellingly as he continued to study the helmet, not making any move to put it on.

"It's not a nice way to die." Hilary still sounded reluctant.

"And me shooting them is?"

She didn't reply for a few seconds . . . "We keep this to ourselves?"

Brian smiled. "I'll have your back, you have mine."

No one on the departing RDBs was interested in the Step as they rushed for home. Had they looked they would have seen blue field screens powering back up over the deck entrances and had they listened they may have heard loud hissing as air rushed back into the flight decks, quickly building pressure to normal. However, even if they had listened they wouldn't have been aware of the pressure continuing to build, climbing on to ear popping levels. The SS on deck were startled by the change but hindered by the weightless environment could only gather near the centre to confer on next steps. Then, in a sudden change Hilary opened a three meter hole in the field, the resulting tremendous hurricane force outflow dragging the troops to the gap and spitting them out to vacuum while sucking everything not tied down with them. In only a few minutes the decks were vacuumed clear of life and debris. The field screen closed over, and atmosphere swiftly reestablished,
order restored.

* * *

Hillary Station

In the cyber war room the three sat in comfort following the action and discussing options. It was disturbing to watch the SS spin out into vacuum although the likely alternative, deaths on station, was unacceptable.

"Edit that bit out Hilary, not a good look even if it was effective and Ham, when we've tidied up the Russian fighters please try to save as many as you can."

It struck Regan how calm things were in the room and immediately she checked herself, reflecting on the lives lost and people who were suffering out there.

 Of greatest concern was the reminder that humans could exercise this kind of treachery, over and over again. Sadly, while it was disappointing it wasn't a surprise.

She watched the aggressor shuttles falling through atmosphere with stolen cargo and in her mind's eye also followed the EFDFs dicing with Russian copies as Ham's ADFs harassed and harried.

"They've learned Ham, they're not wasting missiles."

"We were always going to get to this point, Regan. You hoped that Arteis would be enough but Rod's right, there are times when no one listens and force is required to keep the aggressors back."

She didn't reply, instead focusing on the shuttles, "We can't let them have that drive."

"Well . . ." Ham left the obvious hanging.

"We both know what you have in mind."

"And . . ." He didn't deny a plan.

"Do it." She sat back and crossed her arms in resignation.

Immediately two ADFs broke from the melee and dived after the bombers. Much advanced on the Russian copies, they made ground at a frightening rate. The minutes seemed to pass slowly as the view feed showed the two RDBs growing on the screen.

Lebedev tracked the chasing ADFs on his personal screen, a cold feeling of dread down his spine. He didn't need the pilot to point out they would be caught, and soon; the superior performance of the pursuers was beyond question.

How can the RDB be so far ahead of anything we have developed so far and yet they are already so far advanced again? This is intolerable, and they have armed them!

"I have Prime Minister Sokolov on line sir." The anxious pilot looked around at the General, disturbed to see that Lebedev was sweating profusely, his nerves apparent.

"I asked for President Popov!"

"I know sir, the PM insisted."

The familiar chilling voice crackled through Lebedev's helmet, oozing rebuke. "I am right here General, be very careful what you say, and Popov is with me." Sokolov's monotone delivery was unmistakable and as always, coldly threatening.

Lebedev didn't bother arguing. "Sirs, with respect, we have the shuttle drive but we are being pursued. Their ADFs are much faster and I fear we have little time. I fear we may not make it back but we still have men on the Step. They will secure it for Russia."

Sokolov scowled, his disgust evident even before replying. "You fool, Lebedev, we watched with the world as your men were swept into space. The Step is lost to us and no one has missed your shameful defeat, it is better that you do not return."

Listening with despair, the pilot exchanged resigned looks with his navigator before hauling back on the joystick, pulling them away from the companion RDB and commencing evasive maneuvers. One eye on the screen, the other on his instruments he watched with growing horror as the small dot on screen tracked their every move, drawing closer by the second. He threw the craft into a final vertical dive in a futile attempt to outrun them only to watch spellbound as the chasing craft impossibly accelerated.
No, no, no . . .

In the background he could hear Lebedev praying and the voice of Sokolov still yelling curses, and then all was drowned out by the navigator’s screams.

Feeling sick to the stomach Regan watched as the engagement neared its inevitable conclusion. Suddenly the two bombers veered apart, trying some desperate maneuver to escape. The ADFs were relentless, tracking with such accuracy there was no escape and when the Russians made a final desperate and suicidal dive even that option achieved no relief.

The three watchers on Hillary observed the Russian craft appear to grow impossibly quickly as the ADFs accelerated. The picture only blacked when they drilled into the bombers with devastating effect.

Nothing would survive the fall through atmosphere.

"Hilary?"

"Yes Regan."

"Could you get me President Johnston please?"

She felt sick to her stomach at what she was about to do, but people had died and she'd made a promise.

You prick Mitch . . . this all comes down to you.

* * *

Mitchell Davies, thirty two years old, CEO and owner of Ezas, already a billionaire several times over and with such a promising future. By anyone's measure an unqualified success; except in Regan's eyes and that made him bitter to the core.

A morning arrival of men in dark suits at the company office in San Francisco was not unusual. Neither was them coming to meet with Mitchell Davies. That they took him with them in handcuffs when they left was extremely so.

* * *

This is a game changer . . . I can learn, and change.

Regan reviewed all aspects of the attack, considering what alternative options for defense had been available and what the consequences of failure might have been; they didn't bear thinking about. The element of surprise her displacer defense had offered was gone, as she had always known it would in time.

I was naive; of course our enemies would just watch and learn. It couldn't work forever.
Is it really true, that the only real defense against human kind's nature is the threat of the ultimate deterrent?
It made her sick to even acknowledge the possibility; it was a course she never wanted to contemplate.

Nevertheless, sitting back hoping that nations would do the right thing also seemed naive as did ideologically refusing to allow weapons on station. Without Ham's intervention Hillary Station would have been ridiculously vulnerable and those outvoting her had been proved sadly right.

It's time for change, now, not later. If we're not going to use military force then we'll trade on our strengths. We've got something everyone wants, we'll use that to force positive change, whether they like it or not.

With only a cyber presence on station she fumed with frustration at not being able to sit down and organize with the team . . . or . . .
maybe it's time to come out of the closet.

[Ham . . . Hilary?]

[Yo!]

[It's time for a meeting, with the guys.]

* * *

Kevin, Mary and Kutch sat chatting in the spacious Stein Compound office. The summons from Hilary had intrigued them, an important meeting she said, and they knew such gatherings were always interesting, never a bore. Even allowing for their high expectations the first person to speak was a huge surprise, and the familiar voice shocked them all.

"Hi guys." Regan's warm, happy tone filled the room causing them to sit up, startled.

"Regan . . . is that you?" Kevin spoke first.

"Yup, it's me Kev, how are you?"

"We're all great." He looked at the others, eyes questioning. "When did you get back?"

"That's the thing," She paused for effect, "I never left."

"Where are you babe?" Mary asked.

"I'm right here Mary, but before I tell you more I need you to agree everything about me being here stays between us, ok?"

The three looked at each other with quizzical looks, confused.

"I mean it guys, what I'm going to reveal to you is so far out there you could drop it in conversation without even meaning to. I trust you absolutely so that's not it; I just need you to say it and you'll understand why when I tell you."

Kevin looked disappointed. "Come on Regan, of course we agree, we're all gutted that Mitch broke our trust but we would never betray you."

"Kev, it's not that, I do trust you, but for people in our game this is so juicy it drips sweetness. It will be so hard not to wink at the truth later on."

Kevin looked the others. "Was I right? Are these secret meetings not always interesting?"

"Regan," Kutch spoke for all of them, "You can take it as a given, no matter how juicy this is not a drip will escape."

"Ok . . . it's not that I came back, the truth is I never left," and with that she materialized in front of them, smiling and leaning back on Kevin's desk. "When I left for Gliese I also stayed here, in the system with Hilary and Ham."