Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (30 page)

Now he was getting a new name—the general. Dirk Bently had been the first to tag him with the title, but he was fairly certain it had been in jest. Now it had taken on a life of its own. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. In some ways it made sense, they needed leaders. He definitely knew that they should be as diverse with the leadership as well. He also knew what was coming was going to require soldiers. He just wasn't sure if he was cracked up for it or not.

He also didn't like the idea of sitting on the sidelines in some safe office while he sent out people, people he knew, people he cared about … people to die. Hell if he'd do it.

It had taken them the better part of a week to get to Earth on that mother of a yacht. It had been cramped, rather annoying, but it had done the job. He'd spent just about every waking moment going over what intel Athena could get him and comparing it to the lists and orbits of habitats that had been before the madness.

There were a few less on that list. That bothered him.

But they were here now, he thought as he looked at the ship docked to the outer docking ring. Stevedores, all organics, were busy unloading the cargo. He waved to Bently. Bently looked up. “Make sure we've got everything and nothing gets lost,” he growled. Bently nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.

Elliot growled, eying a few of the supervisors. “That goes for you too,” he said, fixing them with his brown-eyed glare. One gulped. The other nodded and looked away. Good, he thought, making a note of their ID tags in his files. If anything did turn up missing, he'd look them up. They didn't have the time to put up with any theft or black market crap. Especially now.

He looked at the tablet in his hand as he waited for the representative to show up. He didn't like what he was reading. Not only were they unwilling to spare anyone to help him, everyone was too busy patching their own habitats up, but they were also unwilling to give him any material support. That was unacceptable. Totally unacceptable and he intended to call them on it.

Elliot unloaded ship, loaded with representatives and then returned it to Mars space. “I'm not sure where we can fit you all in, but we'll try. And you need to let someone know that if they send ships this way, bring more water with them. At least enough to help out around here, and to get back to Mars,” the Mayor said. Bart Ellington was mayor of Island 3, the third oldest habitat. He was also apparently the elected leader of the space colonies during the crisis, or at least their spokesman, Elliot wasn't sure. He hoped the man had the authority to back up whatever he said or agreed to. Otherwise, he was wasting his time and they were just spinning in place.

“Wonderful,” Elliot grumbled. “Where do you need us? I'd think you'd want us and others in Geo though, helping to bring the rest of the stations over once they are patched up,” he observed. Geo was short for geosynchronous orbit. It was quite a distance away.

The Lagrangian points were places in space that had stable positions relative to larger bodies. Basically they didn't need fuel to maintain their location. There were five around Earth, L-1 and L-2 were at counter points an equal distance from the Earth and Moon. They were the closest in to the pair as well. He wished he was at one of the habitats or industrial centers there, but no such luck.

L-3, L-4, and L-5 were on Earth's orbital plane forming a triangle. They were the most stable points of the five, and therefore the most inhabited.

Which was why most of the space colonies inhabited them. Industry tended to be closer in at L-1 or L-2 despite the need for occasional station keeping or out at Mars or other strategic places.

“You? I need a half a million more like you, fully equipped and such. And fully fueled like I just said. But just you? I'll think of something.”

“My people are space and groundside SAR qualified. I grabbed the best I could in the time I had. Charlie's following with more. And there is more in the pipeline after that.”

“Well, fortunately we've gotten everyone we can save together. Now we need to extract them from Earth orbit and get them here. Plus we need to patch together the damaged stations and such here as well as on the Moon. We're working on that.”

“So you want us to go to orbit?”

“Got it in one. General Murtough is in charge there. Good luck with him.”

“He's
in charge?” Elliot asked, brown eyes wide. “Well, I'm glad he's alive. I've been getting some reports, but the drive obscured some of them.”

“Yeah, comms are down everywhere. We're figuring it out, but it's a pain don'tcha know. Now I've just got to get you to him,” the mayor mused unhappily. Slowly his face cleared.

“I don't like that look,” Elliot said warily.

“You'll like the idea even less. But it's the only bus I've got available for the moment. Everything else has been one way, from there to here.”

“Lovely,” the Neochimp sighed in discontent.

<>V<>

Two hours later discontent was the
least
of his concerns. He hung on to the platform, wishing someone had thought of something else,
anything
else to get them to Earth orbit. Hell, what he
should
have done was keep the damn yacht and had it take them to orbit. He closed his eyes briefly. Too late now, he thought, castigating himself for the oversight.

“What are you doing, sleeping?” Bently demanded.

“Shut up, Dirk, I'm just trying to relax,” Elliot replied.

“Well, sorry.” Bently drawled. “Whose bright idea was this anyway?” he growled.

“Not mine. Definitely not mine,” Elliot muttered. He glanced over to their pilot, a nutty guy named Patrick “Paddy” Wilson. He, had a shelter, a tiny cab tacked together out of metal. It looked like pieces of a locker or broom closet. Most likely that's what it was, he could still see a handle and louvers. They'd put the damn thing in upside down though he thought with a sniff.

Captain Paddy had a thick New England accent to go with his being from New England. As he looked Paddy leaned his suit out to look at Elliot. “So, who'd you piss off here to get this shit? And why'd you agree to it?”

“It seemed like a bad idea at the time,” Elliot answered. Paddy chuckled and went back to driving the tug.

“You boys ain't from around here, are ya?” Paddy asked. “I'm from Cape Cod originally. I got tired of the quotas and wanted to do something more with my skills so here I am. What about you?”

“No. I haven't been back here in years actually. Don't you need to steer or something?” Elliot asked, indicating the wheel. He was trying hard not to chuckle at the captain. He was definitely a character, putting on a salty air and all that.

“Wha’, dis?” Paddy spun the wheel. Elliot clung to the railing but the ship didn't roll or so much as twitch. “Decoration lad, just decoration. These days it's all computer,” he said.

“Ah.” Elliot glanced at his O2 and Co2 levels. His respiration had picked up with that little scare, but he was good. They were all good. They had umbilical's leading to massive containers near the front of the tug.

“Wish we had a water jacket. It'd be safer,” Paddy said, practically yelling.

“You know I can hear you just fine, right?” Elliot asked fighting the exasperation creeping into his voice. He wanted to do a bit of planning before hitting the hay. That way he'd be fresh and could hit the ground running, figuratively speaking of course. The closer they got to the stations … station? He wasn't sure. It looked like a jumble of stations that had been put together by a group of blind kids or hastily set-up habitats overloaded and about out of hope. It was time to fix that.

“Well, sorry,” Paddy drawled. “La-di-da and all that. Big man now?”

“Funny. Why'd you volunteer to do this?” Elliot asked.

“I'm bored. The pay sucks. And I know a guy who knows a guy in the stations. He said he'd pay me buku bucks if I can get him back to Axial-2.”

“Oh,” Elliot replied with a snort.

“Hey now, don't be moving about none,” Paddy cautioned, waving to Bently. Bently froze. “You move about it shifts the weight around this tub and we go off willy nilly like. Keep to where you are, and we'll be right as rain.
Kapeesh
?”

“Shit,” Bently muttered. He did his best to stretch in place then slumped down. “This sucks.”

“Could be worse. We could have a solar flare halfway there,” Paddy answered. “We'd all be cooked before we got to shelter. Ain't that a fun thing to think about?”

“Lovely,” Elliot grumbled as Bently and the rest of his team turned accusing eyes his way. “Thanks a lot,” he said, raising his hand to rub his head. His glove hit his helmet instead of course. He looked at it and then lowered his hand. They had to think about every movement in zero G. He'd forgotten that. It seemed like he'd forgotten a lot.

They said going EVA was like riding a bicycle since the tech changed at a glacial pace. Well, he'd better remember quickly or he and his team would be very dead.

<>V<>

Elliot watched with relief as the tug angled into the dock. Paddy was like a maestro at a concerto, fiddling with the controls until they docked. “This here is the tricky bit. The more fuel I conserve, the more I can haul back,” Paddy said as the docking clamps engaged. He grinned when there was a slight jounce and then the light on his board changed from red to green. “Green is golden. Let's get inside and get out of these here suits,” he said.

“Don't have to tell me twice,” Bently grumbled.

Elliot was the second to last in. The lock cycled a pair of them at a time through, and each of them had gear as well. They'd have to stow the rest of their gear somewhere outside the station Elliot realized once he was inside. The hotel was so crowded there was barely enough room to turn in place. And everyone was babbling like crazy.

“Quiet!” Elliot barked. That calmed the lot of them down for the moment. “I'm with Lagroose security. I'm here to lead the initial SAR effort on the company's behalf. I know the company has dispatched teams from L-5 before we got here. Wherever you are, sound off in a bit. For the moment, people just chill,” he growled, taking his helmet off.

The group murmured in discontent but settled down.

When the helmet came fully off that was when the smell hit him. Too many warm bodies trapped in zero G with no relief. No
shower
, he thought in disgust. The place stank of sweat and fear. “Is General Murtough around or did we dock at the wrong station?”

“I'm here,” a voice in the back said. “Make a hole, people,” it growled. Elliot watched as people pressed themselves against the already covered bulkheads. It looked like a tornado of bodies covering every wall of the long compartment. But it did what it was intended; it allowed the elderly but still functional four-star general a hole to get to him. “Good to see you, Elliot.”

“You too, sir. Roman would have come himself but he's tied up with organizing the follow-on force. This what you've got?” he asked, looking around with his wise brown eyes. There were even a few kids there. All of them were uncomfortable. Only one or two had spacer haircuts or military looks about them.

“Refugees mostly,” the general said, looking about them. “Looking for a place to call home.”

Elliot nodded. “We're working on that too, sir. We've got a tug …”

The murmur picked up again. He stepped on it, getting louder with his voice. “But it's not for the faint of heart. You have to have a suit to use it. It's a long way to L-5 from here, and the chance of a solar storm makes it dicey. We were scared shitless about running into a failure or meteor the whole way,” he said.

That made people squirm. Suddenly not everyone was eager to try it out.

“Thanks a bunch, mate. See if I ever give you a ride,” Paddy growled from behind him as the lock cycled for the last time.

“Sorry, but I tell it how it is. I don't pull punches. We don't have time for that sort of crap,” Elliot said, eying the group. “You're in the shit. It stinks, it's cramped and crowded, the life support's running scared, and you are all probably wondering about food and waking up if you ever sleep. If you can sleep,” he said, turning to look at a woman with haunted and very tired eyes. “We've only got the gear we've got, the suits on our backs, and the skills in our heads. But with that we can do a lot if you help. If you can't help, do your best to keep the place clean and stay out of everyone else's way.” He nodded briefly to one of the kids.

“I can help,” the girl said, jutting her chin out. “I want to help.”

“Good for you. We'll find something for you to do,” the general said, recapturing the lead in the room. He looked around them. “In the meantime, Elliot, why don't we talk elsewhere,” he suggested.

“Aye aye, General,” Elliot said. The general froze then looked back to see if he was being facetious or not. Elliot smiled. “Lead on, sir,” he said in a more appropriate tone of voice. The general grunted and then made his way back the way he had come.

“Bently, get our people sorted out here. See if they have a place for us to bunk or at least a place to strap ourselves to. We'll need to get the gear off Captain Paddy's tug soon too.”

“Next shift,” Paddy said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Though I might go right after dinner pray to tell. Ain't thrilled about how claustrophobic this place has gotten all of a sudden.”