Redemption Protocol (Contact) (59 page)
“He's gone, Commander. You should confirm Havoc is code red and take him out from space. At least authorize us to defend ourselves.”
“Havoc, please,” Whittenhorn said.
Silence.
“He's not responding, Commander. I need permission to defend our position. You know what this man is capable of. For God's sake, Whittenhorn, next he could be fantasizing that you’re Claudius Forge.”
Silence.
“Commander Whittenhorn?”
“Let me think, goddamn it!”
132.
Abbott tried again.
“So we are clear on the rules, Arzbad-Framander Zuelth? Anything that we say could be used by this alien being to misinform or mislead us. We do not know if it represents some kind of threat.”
“Or our salvation, Ambassador Abbott.”
“Quite, but I must insist that you agree on these ground rules before we enter the chamber.”
“Man has always built castles of sand against the forces of the ocean, Ambassador.”
“Arzbad-Framander Zuelth...”
“Yes, of course, Ambassador. I understand your recommendations.”
Abbott shook his head in exasperation. They were far more than recommendations. Still, he admired his visionary stance in bringing the Gathering into the process.
Abbott walked into the pyramid with Jafari, Zuelth and Zuelth's aide. Parity of numbers on each side. Only the two senior diplomats would ascend the steps to confer with the alien.
Stephanie was monitoring the situation outside, given the imminent arrival of both the People's Republic and the United Systems. Abbott was surprised that it had taken the other civilizations this long, to be honest. Perhaps he could chair a summit of all the nations in the central amphitheater. Now that would be truly historic.
133.
Tyburn was angry.
More than one man had died for talking to him more respectfully than Darkwood was now. The vein pulsed on Tyburn’s right temple as Darkwood continued.
“It looks like you made a bad mistake, Tyburn, but is it one we can learn from?”
“Don't talk back to me, Son.”
“I hope you manage to stay alive.”
“Don't worry about us, con––”
“Worry didn't enter my mind, dear General, but I am concerned by all this talk of the ORC, which falls rather outside the remit of our agreement.”
Tyburn ground his teeth.
“Don't believe all that you hear.”
“Or even ten percent of it?”
“Abused patience is fury, Darkwood.”
“Well perhaps Havoc can help turn your frown upside down, General. And remember, it wasn't me who made this blunder.”
Tyburn tried to keep his temper under control. The dynamics of battle he could handle. Disrespect was a whole different ball game. He almost wanted to tip his hand to Darkwood just to shut him up.
“The situation is in hand.”
“Well that is music to my ears, General, because I would love to discuss the ORC situation in more detail upon my return.”
Tyburn bristled at the implied threat.
“Listen––”
Darkwood clicked off.
Tyburn roared.
“Suited motherfucker!”
“Well?” Ekker said.
“If we lift out with the ORC then Darkwood's nothing but a liability.”
“So?”
“A stitch in time, Ekker.”
Ekker nodded.
“When Havoc approaches we'll have a lot of fire going up. We could do Darkwood then.”
Tyburn shook his head.
“No. I can think of a better way.”
“A fuck of a lot of fire,” Ekker insisted.
“Don't tempt me.”
Ekker grinned.
“The best way to deal with temptation is to give in to it.”
Tyburn shook his head.
“That, Ekker, is your Achilles heel.”
134.
Abbott had planned to conduct a master class in diplomacy for Arzbad-Framander Zuelth. It was apparent, however, that Zuelth was not receptive to learning. Abbott concluded that Zuelth was more of a transmitter than a receiver.
He tried again, hoping to inspire by example.
“We would like to learn more of how your society is organized.”
Abbott’s sentence had not even reached the walls of the amphitheater before Zuelth was supplementing it and, from Zuelth’s warped Gathering perspective, improving it.
“If Your Divine Munificence deigns to bless us, such insignificant creatures, with His wisdom in which we might honor Him and, struggling to glimpse the majesty of His vision while He laughs at impossibility, we can surrender our will from our deepest depths to His throne raised up on the highest mountain.”
Abbott’s eyes glazed over. Standing at the altar bathed in soft light was, for Zuelth, as if they were joined by the very spirit of the One True God Himself.
“We are, I am sure, similar to you,” the voice said.
So far the alien had not baulked at Zuelth's three minute title, his sickly reverence or his fawning adulation. Abbott was nothing but grateful for that.
“Yes, but could you please be more specific.”
Again Zuelth interjected and extended Abbott’s request, tuning it to his religious sensibilities.
“Although we, the believers, know that the time is come for the unbelievers to discard their incoherent and illogical beliefs filled as they are with contradictions, errors and outright fabrications and cast off the cloak of spiritual darkness to stand illuminated and purified in the light, power and glory of the One True God and His sacred, all powerful Son, the Blessed Harbinger of Purity and Light, the Glorious Warrior, the Wrath against the unbeliever army, the Omnipotent Redeemer, we would be eternally gratified to learn of Your Will and Your Ways and have revealed to us the side of truth that we do, and have, always stood steadfastly in reliance of, a rock in the sea of sin and suspicion amongst the unbelievers' debauchery and doubt, for You will find no disobedience nor unbelief here, Oh Lord.”
Abbott thought if the alien could make sense of that then maybe it was a God. He closed his eyes and, in the manner of an ostrich, the stupid were suddenly, cathartically absent. Abbott opened his eyes as the voice spoke.
“My only desire is that you release me from this place.”
Same here, Abbott thought.
Zuelth nodded at the alien's latest profundity.
“Of course, my Lord.”
Abbott thought that if Zuelth was the information security equivalent of a boat then every plank was sprung, every seam uncaulked, the hull too low in the water – its integrity was fatally flawed at conception. Put another way, Abbott reflected, this was a total disaster.
He couldn't believe that Stephanie had agreed it was a good idea.
135.
Havoc piloted the shuttle on a course for his drop pod landing zone as Whittenhorn came back on.
“Havoc, Tyburn's station has a five thousand kilometer exclusion zone. If you cross it, he is authorized to defend himself with deadly force. Return to the pyramid so we can sort this situation out. That's an order.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Forge said.
There was a pause.
“Please, Havoc,” Whittenhorn said.
Havoc said nothing.
“Havoc, this is Humberstone here. We have reviewed the pertinent information and I have to inform you that you have been designated code red. On the balance of probabilities you are a danger to everyone, Havoc, including yourself. Please give yourself up.”
There was another pause. Havoc wondered who they would wheel out next; not that he cared.
“Havoc, this is Yamamoto. I have orders to prevent your shuttle from entering the five thousand kilometer exclusion zone. You are less than three minutes away. Please turn the shuttle around.”
Yamamoto paused.
“We want to help you, Havoc.”
Havoc noticed that Whittenhorn, like many pretenders, was at the critical point of decision now conspicuously absent.
“Havoc, I have a lock on your shuttle from orbit. You know as well as anyone what the Hel will do to it,” Yamamoto said.
Havoc knew. Firing the Hel at his shuttle would be like cutting butter with a filament blade.
He flew on.
Time rolled forward relentlessly like metal off a drum, heated up, drawn out and extruded; spurting forward for some seconds, slowing down for others.
“Havoc, on your present course you have less than one minute before I open fire.”
136.
Stephanie watched Abbott pacing in front of her as the Gathering team departed. She knew Abbott’s moods intimately. It wasn't good. Normally she would slide the blame onto some junior aide but they were thin on the ground out here.
Abbott sighed heavily.
“It was a disaster. A total disaster.”
“Surely something positive came out of it?”
Abbott shook his head.
“Check the file. These conferences will be reviewed throughout human history. It was a disaster.”
Jafari sat silently, not getting involved in Abbott’s review of the diplomatic side of things.
Stephanie eyed the screen that tracked the progress of Havoc’s shuttle. It would be ideal if the
Intrepid
vaporized Havoc, allowing her to point all the suspicion at him.
Abbott paced as he pulled himself together.
“Alright let's re-assess where we are with this. Do we let the alien out? You could say it's inevitable that we will, so we should. If we don't, someone else will.”
Jafari looked unconvinced.
“We don't have the military capability to stop every other party accessing the pyramid, especially if they group together. That said, I believe it is extremely inadvisable to release something of unknown capability in this threat environment.”
“How do we trade out of what we cannot keep to gain something that we cannot lose?” Abbott said.
Stephanie turned to him.
“Knowledge.”
Abbott nodded.
“Exactly. Which we only get if we release it.”
Jafari frowned.
Stephanie raised an eyebrow.
“So you think we should?”
Abbott ran his hands over his golden mane.
“I’m torn. I don’t think we should but I want to.”
Stephanie smiled.
Jafari turned to her.
“Stephanie, did you see Novosa on her walk?”
Stephanie didn't even blink at this sudden change in direction. She’d been doing this for years. Anyone trying to trip her up would have to be a million times better than that. She nodded.
“Yes.”
Abbott watched her. Jafari leaned forward.
“Go on.”
Stephanie looked regretful.
“We spoke briefly about Havoc and Stone and she talked about getting out of operations.”
Abbott regarded her.
Stephanie looked back, utterly composed.
137.
Weaver looked up as Karch approached her. Karch gestured at the library.
“We’re good to go. You sure you want to stay?”
Weaver nodded.
“There could be critical information we don’t know yet. I'm going to stay.”
“Ok, then. Whittenhorn wants me on the platform. He wants a security presence there given the Havoc situation.”
“Makes sense.”
“You sure you’ll be ok here?”
Weaver smiled.
“I'm sure.”
“Four cabins out the front remember. And two missile batteries, in case you’re bored.”
Weaver laughed.
Karch gave her a wide smile.
“I’m overdoing it, huh?”
“Not at all, it's nice. But I’m fine with this, honestly.”
“Ok. Good.”
A distress alarm chimed on mission net as Darkwood spoke from orbit.
“This is Darkwood in the research shuttle. I have instrumentation issues.”
Whittenhorn spoke from the disc six platform.
“Please provide an update, Darkwood. What are your issues? How can we assist you?”