A month ago, they’d seen the destruction humanity could wreak. On the planet below, they were seeing the wonders it could conjure, a world in the process of transformation, life being brought to a hitherto barren and empty world. Points of lights were scattered across the terrain, the terraforming stations that had been maintained for generations, and would be required for generations more before the work was completed.
“It must be amazing to see it for the first time,” Neville said, turning to face him. “When I first came up, it looked completely different. We had a big genetic breakthrough a couple of decades ago, and that’s accelerated the process a little. Enough to make the deserts bloom.” Gesturing at a huge patch of green, a crater filled with life, he added, “That was just endless brown desert when I launched. Now look at it. I can complain all I want that they’re neglecting our space program, but looking at the results…”
“We can help with that,” Mitchell replied, glancing back at Romanova, sitting quietly at the rear of the room. Ikande had refused permission for Thiou to land with the first shuttle, instead restricting it to the two officers he trusted. Fitzroy would be cooling his heels on the deck for the duration of their stay, while Mitchell was left with the task of persuading the local government that they should surrender their future to the Commonwealth.
The more he thought about it, the sicker he felt in his stomach. Romanova was watching his every move, almost certainly holding orders to take over should be falter. Looking at the wonders outside, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was betraying their dream. These people had dared to tame a world. Had they spent that effort on regaining spaceflight, it might be their ships hovering over Mars today.
“This is a hell of a ship,” Mitchell said, looking around the cabin, trying to change the subject. Watson had insisted that they use her ship, Curtiss, for the transfer, and after a brief argument, Mitchell had convinced Ikande to agree. Their shuttles could have landed, but they were really designed for far thinner atmosphere, not the thicker soup of Atlantis. Curtiss was made for this work. That it would be a fantastic advertisement for Watson’s company was just an incidental advantage.
“Liz and I designed her between us,” Neville replied, nodding in approval. “We’ve put three together so far, with parts for another two. We were hoping that recreating my landing on the moon for the bicentennial would put us on the map but being the exclusive carrier of Endurance personnel is going to send us into the stratosphere.”
“Is there are market for these ships, then?” Romanova asked, her first words of the trip.
“Not yet, but there should be. There needs to be. All we do right now is maintain our satellites and a little asteroid mining. We managed an expedition to the innermost world, Colchis, but most of them haven’t been touched yet. Anything could be out there.” Patting the hull, he added, “With luck, over the next decade or two, shuttles like this will be landing on every planet on the system. It’s time for us to look outward again. Back to the stars. That’s where we belong.” He slid his hand down to his pocket, and said, “Like my ancestor would have wanted.”
The shuttle bucked in the atmosphere, rocking from side to side, the winglets glowing red as they dived towards the surface. Mitchell reached for his restraints, a smile on his face. He’d never done an atmospheric landing before. This was as close as he was ever likely to get to going to Earth, and despite their mission, he determined to enjoy it.
“Are those fields?” Romanova asked, wide-eyed.
“Experimental at the moment,” Neville replied. “We’re hoping to be able to get rid of our hydroponics in a few years. We’ve got modified crops that can live in the atmosphere as it stands, but nobody on Atlantis has ever farmed in bare soil before. And of course, we must prepare the ground properly, but it’s all part of the terraforming process. I’ve eaten some of the potatoes, though. Marvelous. I suspect the President will feed you some at the first opportunity. Getting the exterior farms up and running was one of his big campaign pledges.”
“Pilot speaking,” Watson said, her voice crackling over the speaker. “Landing in one minute. We’re coming down at Sorenson Field…”
“The High Guard’s primary spaceport,” Neville said, frowning. “Guess they don’t want you meeting the public yet.”
“And the President will be waiting with his staff. He wants a quiet, off-the-record talk with you before any formal negotiations begin.” She paused, then added, “Naturally, I’ll be attending, as per our previous agreement.”
“I’ll hang around as well,” Neville said with a smile. “Floyd and I go way back. He was the Flight Director for my first trip to the Moon.” He shook his head, and continued, “Of course, we had a little difference of opinion after I ignored his order to abort the mission. I told him I could set her down just fine without radar. Given that my flag’s still flying up there, I think I proved my point.”
“Small military base,” Romanova said, peering out of the window. “I see a dozen small shuttles, all with boosters. Fighters, Colonel?”
“Dyna-Soars, based on an old design we brought from Earth. NASA never built them, but we did. Booster rockets get them into orbit damned quick, and we’ve got some nice surprises should anyone decide to try anything. You worried about that Coalition?”
“Always,” she replied. “Endurance is a scout cruiser. She can handle herself in a fight, but she’s not got the teeth of one of our dedicated warships.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Neville said. “I was lead pilot when they built them. Helped with the cockpit modifications, trained most of the squadron before they put me out to pasture.” Shaking his head, he said, “Seventy’s way too early for a man to retire, don’t you think? I had another ten years left in me, easy.”
“Coming into land,” Watson said. “Approach clear, minimal crosswind, no problem.”
“That why you joined up with your granddaughter?”
“After her first business went down, she got kinda low, so I spent some time cheering her up, going through some of our old designs from my time at Advanced Tech. This ship’s a modification of one of them. She’s a real space nut, just like me. Both her parents are doctors, though. Kinda skipped a generation.” He looked at Mitchell, and asked, “You married?”
“Been moving around too fast to get caught,” Mitchell replied with a smile. “Five years in the Guard, fifteen years on the interstellar merchants.”
“God, I thought I was a pioneer. How many planets have you visited?”
“Forty, forty-five, in twenty-odd systems. You lose track after a while. Trust me, one dome is much like another.” He paused, though, “I overflew Lalande 21185 1 once. Eldorado. It’s a one-face world, tidally locked. The side facing the sun is one of the hottest worlds ever recorded, but there’s a wealth of exotic elements down there, waiting to be mined. One crew tried it. Never made it back.”
“The heat?”
“Indirectly. The planet is highly unstable. They flew right into a volcanic eruption in progress, caught them by surprise. They never even knew what had hit them. Nobody else has ever volunteered to make the attempt, but the orbital research station does overflights, down to ten thousand feet. It’s amazing, if you ever get the chance.”
The shuttle bounced, skidding on the runway before settling into a smooth run, racing towards a waiting buggy at the end. As Watson brought the ship to a stop, a trio of figures emerged from the vehicle, heading towards them. Looking around the perimeter, Mitchell could see a pair of old-fashioned artillery pieces aimed right at them. Presumably loaded with enough ammunition to turn the shuttle into a pile of scrap metal in short order.
“Friendly,” Romanova said.
Mitchell glared at her, and replied, “Can you blame them? If I’d been commanding that delegation, we’d have met in high orbit, with fighters on all sides. I think they’re being remarkably restrained.” He threw off his restraints, making his way to the airlock, and Romanova followed, Watson hast
ily sliding through the cramped hatch into the passenger cabin. The inner door opened, and a tall, dark man stepped inside, unruly pepper-grey hair tangled on his head. Behind him, wearing a purple uniform with gold trim, a frowning, stout woman walked, with a short, wiry woman following her, a smile on her face.
“Lieutenant Mitchell?” the man said. “I’m President McGuire.” Gesturing at the uniformed woman, he added, “Colonel Vivian Brock, commander of the High Guard, and Representative Lynn Vasquez, Space Minister. Welcome to Atlantis.”
“It’s a pleasure to be here, sir. This is Lieutenant Romanova, Fourth Lieutenant.”
“I presume your commanding officer considered you expendable,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye. “I look forward to meeting Captain Ikande in a more formal setting, though I quite understand that he must see to the safety of his ship first. I’ll stress now that as far as I am concerned, this meeting is primarily for the purposes of information, nothing more. Any discussions will have to take place in a structured environment, with the involvement of the House of Representatives.”
“A collection of bloated egos if I ever saw them, Floyd,” Neville said.
“Diplomatic as ever, Bill.” Looking at Watson, he said, “I’m not sure…”
“She’s sitting in,” Mitchell replied. “It’s a long story, but I gave her my word, and I intend to keep it. She’ll represent local corporate interests.”
“Do they know that?” Vasquez asked. “I’m not sure they’d approve.”
“Evidence that the Lieutenant will keep his word is welcome enough, Lynn,” McGuire replied. “Very well, I’ll go along with it. At least for now.” He sat down in the nearest couch, and asked, “What are your intentions? Are you here to conquer us?”
“We’re here to ally with you,” Mitchell said, pitching the lie he had been briefed. “We’re fighting a cold war with a group called the Coalition. Effectively, cyber-communists who believe in complete subservience to higher authority. Frankly, it’s only blind luck that we found you first. Under other circumstances, you’d be in a shooting war right now. We think that the Coalition will be hard on our heels. I hope you have your defenses ready.”
“They’ve been on maximum alert for the last three hours,” Brock replied. “They will continue to remain on our highest alert status until I am convinced that you do not pose a threat. I warn you that I do not convince easily.” Looking at Romanova, she asked, “Just what is your job on that ship?”
“Security Officer,” she replied. “I came down with Lieutenant Mitchell because I am the best equipped to defend him.” Glancing at Mitchell, she added, “Think of me as a combination of aide and bodyguard. We didn’t have any clear idea what we were facing.”
Nodding, McGuire said, “That’s reasonable enough, given the circumstances. Then you are here to sign a treaty with us?”
“A free trade and mutual defense agreement. We’d also like permission to construct a facility in orbit to support interstellar traffic, one which naturally your people will be free to make use of. In addition, we need to put a hyperspace sensor network in orbit around your planet. We can do that right away.”
“What will that do?” Vasquez asked.
“It’s an early warning system. To provide plenty of notice should an enemy ship be on the way. I can’t stress this enough, the Coalition will be coming, and in force. Endurance cannot protect you by itself, and while I am assured that you have strong defenses, as it stands, you face the real danger of being caught on the ground when they arrive.”
“I’ll want to inspect them, before deployment,” Brock said. Mitchell nodded. They’d been designed as modular units. The bulk of the equipment was a sensor package, one that would do everything he’d claimed. The missiles were added on at the last moment, an easy job of assembly. Unless a real expert on the systems examined them, they’d easily fool any inspection.
“Of course,” he replied. “As long as you don’t mind doing it immediately. It’ll take five days to calibrate the network. Until then, Endurance will remain at alert status, and I’d strongly recommend that your people do the same. I’d also like permission for a few of our people to come down to the surface. Including Doctor Thiou, who was responsible for the discovery of your colony.”
“She’s good people, Floyd,” Neville added. “You’ll like her.”
Nodding, McGuire replied, “If Colonel Neville vouches for someone, that’s good enough for me. I’ll assign someone to serve as escort, and I’d rather she stayed away from the public areas for the moment.”
“I’d imagine she’d want to spend most of her time in the Museum of Earth, anyway,” Vasquez said. “I’m sure that can be arranged easily enough. For the present, we’d rather keep news of your arrival confidential. If it was known that a ship had appeared in orbit without notice, we’d risk a panic.”
“Come on, damn it,” Neville said. “You’re just worried that they’ll mess up your plans. I can name half a dozen people who will think they can make a profit out of all of this, most of them contributors to your last election campaign. Besides, anyone with a telescope will spot Endurance when it leaves the moon, and they’ll certainly notice a new satellite network being deployed. You can’t keep this quiet for long.”
“I’m forced to agree,” Brock added. “Word is already spreading around the base. It’s going to reach the population, and much better for it to happen in a controlled fashion.”
“Might I make a suggestion?” Mitchell replied. “You want to meet the Captain anyway.” He passed over a tablet, and said, “This has a potted history of the last two centuries, focused on the Solar System, and an outline of the sort of treaty we have in mind. Why not take, say twenty-four hours to discuss it with anyone you need to bring into the loop, then come up to Endurance. You can issue a joint statement to your people, you and Captain Ikande.” Turning to Brock, he added, “You can come up right away if you wish, Colonel, and get a full tour, to ensure the safety of your President and inspect the satellites prior to deployment.”
“I’d like to talk about the maintenance contract for those satellites,” Watson said.
“Later, later,” McGuire replied, tentatively taking the tablet. “What do you think, Lynn?”
“I think we don’t have a lot of choice. We can’t be seen to lose control of the situation, and the best way to prevent that is to move first and fastest. Nobody would blame us for waiting for a few hours, but any longer than that, and we might run into trouble.”
“Very well,” McGuire said. “We’ll go with your plan, Lieutenant.” Pushing himself to his feet, he added, “Colonel, are you in agreement?”
“Of course,” she replied. “I warn you, Lieutenant, I’ll be looking over those satellites pretty damned carefully, and if I see anything I don’t like, I’ll veto deployment. Trust me, I can back that up.”
“Then we might as well move on this quickly,” McGuire added, moving to the airlock. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lieutenant. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” He smiled, and said, “Though I hope the formal negotiations go as smoothly. You’re a good negotiator. You get to the point. Not usual.”
“Thank you, Mister President,” Mitchell replied, forcing a smile. Everything was going as planned. They were on course to accomplish their mission.
And the more he thought about it, the more he was sick to his stomach.
Chapter 29
The technician crashed into DeSilva, almost sending her into the wall, and she felt his hand rubbing against her leg as he pushed on down the corridor. She turned, ready with an angry retort, when she felt something in her pocket, a piece of paper.
“Watch where you are going, you bastard,” she replied, not wanting to break cover, and a couple of hydroponic technicians at the far end of the passage applauded as the man stalked away. She hefted the holdall she was carrying, lumbering down the corridor, waiting until she was out of sight before pulling the note from her pocket and reading it.
“Dec
k 10. Section 41-B. Now,” it read. Her eyes widened as she scanned the text, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. Nguyen had broken cover, not even bothering to use a code, and had arranged for her to be contacted in full view of half a dozen crewmen, any of whom could be an informant for Romanova. She looked back and forth, crunched the sugar paper into a ball and swallowed it.
Almost everyone was getting the ship ready for a maintenance check, cleaning the corridors and rendering it pristine for the President’s visit and taking advantage of the time in normal space. Most of the crew were eager to head down to the surface, the inviting greens and blues harkening back to a homeworld they had never known.
If she was lucky, she wouldn’t be missed. Turning down the corridor, she headed for the nearest maintenance shaft, leaving the holdall behind, by an emergency airlock. Pulling open the hatch, she started to climb down the ladder, hand over hand, glancing around to check that she was not being monitored or followed. Romanova was still on the surface, but her staff weren’t, and they were more than capable of dealing with her in their superior’s absence. Or worse, turning her over to the Captain, or Fitzroy.
“You too?” Schneider asked, climbing down a side passage. “Any idea what’s going on?”
“Only that it must be pretty damned important.”
“You aren’t kidding. I was at my duty station when I got the message. Flashed right up onto my terminal. I guess we’ve got a better handle on the internal communications network than I thought.” She paused, then added, “At least, based on that, I damned well hope so. It’ll be pretty embarrassing if we don’t.”
“Embarrassing isn’t the word that came to my mind,” DeSilva replied. “Try fatal.” She dropped to the bottom of the shaft, sliding down the last half-dozen rungs, and crawled into a chamber, a space carved out inside the hull armor, in an unprotected area of the ship. Nguyen and Zhao walked forward, fury on the latter’s face, while Wagner lounged in a corner, poking at a tablet.
Exiles of Earth: Rebellion Page 23
