Hands raised, questions started, but Floros squelched everything by
raising her voice. “We can’t access the buoy’s data channels. Therefore
there will be no FTL data available
. Period.”
There was stunned silence. Finally, one of the older Terran
officers—Oleander wasn’t sure of his rank, considering that he wore a subdued uniform—raised
his hand and asked, “What weapons and weapon systems do these isolationists have?”
“Glad you asked, ’cause that’s next.” Floros tapped the podium and a
list displayed on the wall above her, with classification of “Secret: Source Protection
Required.”
Oleander wondered what source the Directorate might be protecting. Where
did they get information regarding the isolationists’ inventory? She put aside her questions to
concentrate on Floros’s briefing.
“They’ll have standard poor-man weapons on their vehicles, such as
kinetic spikes, perhaps with smart guidance. We also know they have mines, lots of mines. They
have only one military weapon system: the State Prince’s retrofitted MIL-8440 Gladiator, now
listed as an unarmed TM-8440.”
There were snorts around the room. The tension level lowered. Most
military ships sported active and smart armor. They could avoid mines and kinetic weapons with
normal sensors or confuse targeting systems with chaff; FTL data no longer looked
necessary.
Lieutenant Maurell, the junior weapons officer on the
Bright Crescent
, sat next to Oleander. He raised his hand and got a nod from
Captain Floros.
“It sounds like these isolationists will be embedded about the entire
system. We’d need three-point insertion, you know, to strike both space and ground facilities.
Why aren’t we sending a destroyer or at least a Paladin-class cruiser, with shock troops and an
escort of corvettes. . . .” His voice died away as Floros’s face darkened.
Oleander crossed her arms. She leaned back to get a better view of the
other junior officers.
This’ll be interesting to watch
. Colonel
Edones and SP Hauser had debated this point into exhaustion: How much information should be
released to the crews? Edones argued that many needed to know the threat to be effective, while
Hauser had to be convinced, specialty by specialty.
“The following information is highly classified and given on a
need-to-know basis.” Floros used her official briefing voice. “Since you’re all involved with
offensive or countermeasure systems, you need this information. The isolationists have what’s
equivalent to a
Mark Fifteen temporal-distortion warhead
. They have
a good chance of detonating it, and guess what? Instead of having to cobble together some
jury-rigged controller, they have a retrofitted MIL-8440 Gladiator
that
still has an MCU-15A controller
.”
There were curses and exclamations. Floros overrode them all as she
continued. “Even though the controller is disabled, we’ve figured out how it can interface with
the package. If we can figure it out, then we must assume they can. They’re not as stupid as
Qesan, their previous leader.”
There was muttering as everyone dealt with the possibility they might be
transitioning as a TD weapon detonated, lost forever in N-space. Hardly better, they could
arrive at G-145 just in time to die. Floros waited for the room to quiet. She nodded at
Maurell.
“To answer the lieutenant’s question, we’re taking all we’re allowed to
take into G-145, given our agreements with Pilgrimage. To make matters more
delicate
, Pilgrimage HQ doesn’t know about the TD weapon. To them, this is a
rescue mission.”
Floros changed the display and showed how they were balancing
capabilities. The
Bright Crescent
had longer range, better armor,
and more brute firepower than the lighter Terran Defender-class frigate. However, the frigate
was faster, more maneuverable, had short-range weapons, grappling capability, and packed more
troops than the
Bright Crescent
.
“We’ve got two cutters coming in with three companies of Terran
special-force rangers. They’ll go onto the TLS
Percival
, while the
Bright Crescent
will squeeze in one platoon of Consortium shock
commandos. For standoff battle scenarios,
Percival
will take escort
role, and we’ll flip that for boarding scenarios. However, we’re not going to see normal
tactical scenarios—I’ll turn this over to Lieutenant Oleander for special weapon
issues.”
Oleander stood up, and she couldn’t help feeling a little nauseated.
This wasn’t an exercise or training; this was the real deal. People were going to die. How many
lives were lost, how much success the mission had, could turn upon the weaponry and armament
selected. She went to the podium and touched it, loading her first classified slide. As she
glanced at the armament list, she felt calmer, more confident. The dual-flag command staff had
already approved this load.
“We have to remember these people have every reason to defy the Phaistos
Protocols,” she said. “That means the buoy channels are probably mined and we all know a ship
coming out of N-space can’t have smart armor activated. We’ll have only passive armor, with no
ability to avoid or reduce damage. That’s why
Bright Crescent
will
drop first.”
She saw Lieutenant Maurell’s face go white. Her other crew members
tensed.
I’m only starting, guys. It gets worse
.
CHAPTER 17
The best target is a small community that can be cut off from its
civilizing authority.
—
The Cause, Qesan Douchet
, est.
2073.011 UT, indexed by
Heraclitus 24
under Conflict Imperative
“I
sn’t this going to set off alarms?” Joyce
paused before opening the door. They’d had a tricky time getting to the exploration equipment
storage lockers undetected.
“There aren’t any security alarms.” When Maria noticed his surprise, she
gave him a withering look. “We’re a cooperative scientific research mission. Why would we need
alarms and monitors?”
After she closed the door behind them, Joyce muttered, “Perhaps this
unsecure environment attracted the isolationists.”
“I wondered that myself.” Maria touched glowing symbols on the wall and
the ceiling gave them low light. “Even though I love to blame Aether Exploration for the
chaotic situation here on the moon, I admit I’ve seen similar situations in other newly opened
systems. It was mayhem on J-132’s Ambra, for instance, with thousands of contractors crawling
over its surface.”
“Still doesn’t explain why they chose this system.”
“Maybe they thought they’d get a cache of usable alien technology.
Perhaps they’re interested in the artifact.” Maria led him past crates and tanks that stood in
orderly rows.
“Yes, the
artifact
.” Joyce shook his head;
what could they want with that? It had been nicknamed “the most extensively studied space junk
in history” by the Feeds.
Maria opened a large locker set against the wall near the Builders’
airlock. The nameplate read BOEING-ZHOU-KUNAL and had the seal of the Terran space forces
underneath. The locker held three EVA suits. Joyce was dismayed to see that they weren’t the
self-fitting type. It’d take at least an hour to fit the suits, get them on, and test
them.
“So we’re decided?” Joyce looked at the tall woman searchingly. “We’re
going out there and waiting to hop a ride on the elevator? It’ll be dangerous; we can’t be
assured we’ll have enough air.”
“I know. But it’s the only escape we have.” Maria tossed him a pair of
gloves.
“You’ll have a chance to stop them, Major Kedros.”
Isrid hadn’t intended to slip into an altered state, but as he relaxed
against the wall, he sensed Major Kedros’s aura. She radiated a deep blue-purple, shot with
sparks of turquoise. The light scent reminded him of the sea air on a shore he’d visited on
Quillens Colony. It was almost as he remembered it, except for a flare of orange-red that
licked its edge. He slowly glanced down; his familiar orange-red glow now had sparks of
turquoise.
Maria had warned him.
There’s now a connection
between you two
, she said when she reminded him that significant events or debts could
connect two auras. Torture, blackmail, saving each other’s lives had apparently tied them
together. He blinked. The auras were gone.
“Why do you think I’ll have any chance to stop them?” she asked. “You
sound like you’re sure.”
Looking at her face, he knew how she’d received the old bruises, the
ones on the other side from her recent injuries. He’d answered her honestly—no, he hadn’t told
his family about her identity. Sabina privately boasted about attacking Kedros, after the fact,
to needle him. She wanted him to know she had access to classified information, but years of
living and sleeping with Sabina created chinks in her
somaural
armor that he could interpret. Sabina had intended to kill Kedros on the station, but when the
time came,
she couldn’t
.
Now, considering the entwining of auras, he might know why he and Sabina
had both showed mercy to Kedros. But he didn’t have anything close to a
scientific
hypothesis and he wasn’t going to speak of this to anyone, until he
knew more.
That’s only if we stop these madmen from using the
weapon
.
“I think Rouxe may be planning an escape.” Isrid tried to focus. “It
must have taken years of manipulation and planning for Abram to maneuver Dr. Rouxe into a
position to steal the test codes. It’s hard to understand the kind of hate that would drive a
father to use his son like that, and waste his son’s life.”
“That kind of hate?” Her voice was quiet. “The kind that drives people
to torture others?”
He met her gaze squarely and without flinching. “You may not believe me,
but I would never sacrifice my son to satisfy my revenge.”
Ariane believed him. She swallowed, her throat tight. Her shoulders
ached, her arms hurt, and her wrists burned. Parmet slid down to a sitting position again,
clearly exhausted. Not feeling much better, she leaned against the wall. The light panels above
lit the space dimly; her eyes had adjusted and she saw the havoc the torture had done to
him.
“So you think Rouxe wants to escape, but how does that help us?” she
asked. “I’ll never be allowed near the weapon, and Abram’s covered every contingency I can
think of.”
“Be prepared. If you get near my ship, try to sabotage it. The onboard
controller gives them an easy way to enter the test codes.”
“I’ll never get near your ship, because they’re not
that
stupid. If the controller is destroyed, will it stop them?”
He shook his head. “No, they could still jury-rig an interface. But
you’d slow them down.”
“Then all they have to do is yank your weapon about and it’ll arm!
Pretty piss-poor design, if you ask me.” She snorted.
“They needed those test codes, which were classified and protected.
Rouxe went through a lot to get those codes and I doubt he’ll let anybody else enter them. If
he wants to keep you close, go along—”
Their whispered conversation was interrupted by the sound of someone
activating the outside lock. Parmet slid quickly toward the corner and crumpled up. Ariane
moved to the other side of the room. When the door opened, she was standing with her back to
the wall, her eyes wide.
“He’s insane.” Her voice cracked. “Get me out of here.”
Tahir walked in, his weapon holstered, followed by a man who looked like
he was Autonomist. Two more tribal—or family—henchmen stood at the door. Luckily, Emery wasn’t
present.
“Glad you’re still alive.” Tahir seemed different. His stance was
relaxed, confident, with the air of a man who’d set a plan into action and was watching it
unfold. He cocked his head as if assessing her, weighing her abilities.
“Can’t say the same for you,” she answered.
“Do you know what the arc of retribution is, Major?” he asked.
“No, but I can guess.” The phrase implied justice or punishment,
probably for her.
“There’s a belief among my people that there’s a symmetry to great
deeds, both good and evil, such as your destruction of Ura-Guinn. Your salvation can come in
the form of doing the same again, this time for a just cause.”
She kept her face blank. Was she being offered a way to sabotage Abram’s
plans? Perhaps they were
that
stupid, but if so, they wouldn’t
expect her to cooperate gracefully.
“You think I’ll pilot your ship?” She kept an edge in her voice. “What
do I get out of this? A few personal freedoms in the future?”
“You have no future. But you can have salvation when justice is served.”
Tahir replied in a level voice, but his eyes flashed a warning as they darted to the men
accompanying him. He seemed to be asking her to be his conspirator.