Resolution (55 page)

‘And the other spheres? What about food?’

‘Axolon ... You’re a bloody genius.’

Tom turned away, heading for the conference chamber which had become his command centre. A bloodstained man in the torn uniform of a Halberdier captain was standing; he had obviously heard the conversation.

Now, he went down on one knee.

‘No, my Lord, with respect,’ the Halberdier said, bowing his head. ‘There is
one
leader now, one genius, and we all know who it is. Sir.’

When Tom reached the command centre, Elva was pointing out arcs and nodes within a tactical holo while the men and women around her, mostly in uniform, nodded agreement. When Elva saw Tom, she said: ‘Give me a moment, people,’ and crossed over to him.

‘The place is crowded, Tom. I’ve moved our stuff into a smaller bedchamber, and I mean
small.
I think it used to be a storage cupboard.’

‘It’ll be better when the other spheres become ready.’

‘Yeah ... And I’ve made room for a third person, too. Not much privacy.’

‘Um, all right.’

Tom looked over at the display. More vessels were rising to join the floating armada; some were already headed for other spheres. That was Axolon’s doing.

‘Oh, and ... Nice thinking, Tom, about the terraformers.’

At that, a junior trooper came up carrying something dark and supple, and bowed to Elva. ‘They’re ready, my Lady.’

To Tom, Elva said: ‘This is for you, my Lord.’

It was a tunic she held out, black and with a red circular knot-design upon the chest, formed of interwoven tricon-facets denoting Courage and Determination. A military leader would have worn such a garment during the Founding Wars, at the beginning of Nulapeiron’s history: it was the kind of thing no-one had worn for centuries. There was no left sleeve.

Held across the trooper’s forearms was a second one-sleeved tunic, nearly identical save that the red design was missing and it was a fraction of the size.

‘The spare one,’ said Tom, ‘doesn’t look as though it will fit.’

‘It’s not for you, my love.’

‘Ah.’ Tom leaned over and kissed her. ‘Excellent, my Lady.’

Most of Nulapeiron’s ten billion inhabitants kept to the same diurnal cycle, following a single timezone which had been established more than a millennium before. On the terraformer, where they floated in the open, that cycle bore little relationship to the hours of light and darkness: a cycle that continually changed as Axolon Array drifted through the skies.

There were other problems besides disrupted sleep-patterns and the anxiety of those who were terrified of open spaces. In the midst of darkness, Tom jerked awake, and realized that the images of encroaching forces blowing terraformers apart in the nightbound sky were from his dreams, and not reality.

Two pairs of eyes were gleaming in the darkness. They had been using lased-in displays while he was sleeping.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Lights.’

The chamber brightened.

In the bed beside him, Elva blinked three times rapidly, and the membrane coating her eyes cleared. From the smaller makeshift bed laid across the far wall, Jissie gasped, then made a control gesture which stilled the game she had been playing.

‘Sorry ...
’

‘You didn’t wake me up,’ said Tom.

Elva sat up properly, tucked her pillow against her back. ‘I’ve been keeping in touch with SatScan comms—’

‘I guessed.’

‘—and Adam Gervicort got away.’

‘Good.’

‘And Zhao-ji took Paradox to safety, apparently, from his base.’ Paradox was a neko-feline, very old and grand, whom Tom and Zhao-ji had looked after in their school days. ‘And his latest-generation offspring: Fawn, Constantia, and Antinomios.’

Thank Fate.

‘Ah, Destiny.’ Tom rubbed his eyes, wiped the back of his hand across his nose. ‘With all that’s happening, worrying about the Fate of a neko and three kittens—’

‘I’d think less of you, Tom, if you didn’t.’

Tom swallowed and shut his eyes.

‘If we’re not fighting for the three of us,’ added Elva, ‘then what are we fighting for?’

‘Um, right.’ Tom cleared his throat, looked at her. ‘Things happen fast in war, don’t they?’

Jissie, in her makeshift bed, looked from one to the other. ‘Three?’ she asked.

‘If that’s what you want, of course,’ said Elva.

‘Oh,’ said Jissie.

Then she lay back down, curled on her side, and slipped into peaceful sleep.

‘Lights off,’ said Tom, and lay back, knowing that nothing awaited him but nightmares. Perhaps the dreams were prescient, or perhaps they were like the truecasts of Oracle Gérard d’Ovraison who once lived in this place, dreaming of life, until the day Tom murdered him.

~ * ~

36

NULAPEIRON AD 3426

Tom and Elva, along with most of the senior officers, were already grouped around the conference table when Axolon interrupted, displaying an image of dart-shaped shuttles flying in tight formation.

‘That’s Adam’s group, is it? How is he doing?’

‘Kraiv!’

Axolon took that as assent.

‘Greetings, old friend. By Axe and Blood, we made it.’

‘Fate ... Kraiv! Is that really you? Where’s Draquelle?’

‘Here, with the children, and thirty per cent of the Manse Hetreece. Are we welcome in this place?’

‘Ha.’ Tom looked around the table. ‘One third of such a fighting clan is welcome anywhere ...’

‘Aye, my Lord.’

‘Definitely.’

‘... and my colleagues agree.’

‘
We’ll see you in twenty minutes. Till then.
’

Tom waited for a second to ensure the comm link was ended.

‘Axolon?’

‘Make weapons ready, all the same. An AI could fake that voice, given the right surveillance material to work from.’ It was unsettling, but they had to face the possibility. ‘Sooner or later, the Enemy will find out where we are.’

There were grim nods around the table.

‘But it will cost them’ - Elva placed her graser pistol flat upon the tabletop - ‘to take us down. That’s for sure.’

It was not just nightshift: it was real night outside, with dark clouds scudding and chill winds in the air. Inside the terraformer’s command centre, the white and blue tiles showed track-marks of boots. The chamber was quiet with the odd feel of a workplace when everyone has left.