by John Scalzi
Gau turned and bellowed at one of his soldiers, and then bellowed again when it became clear they weren’t paying attention. One came over; he covered his translator and spoke something to him in their own language. The soldier sprinted back to the others, yelling as he went.
He turned back to me. “This will make things difficult,” he said.
“With all due respect, General,” I said. “I think that was the intent.”
“No,” Gau said. “You don’t understand. I told you there are those in the Conclave who want to eradicate humanity. To annihilate all of you as you’ve just annihilated my fleet. It will be harder now to hold them back. They are part of the Conclave. But they still have their own ships and their own governments. I don’t know what will happen now. I don’t know if I can control them after this. I don’t know if they will listen to me anymore.”
A squad of soldiers approached the general to retrieve him, two of them training their weapons on me. The general barked something; the weapons came down. Gau took a step toward me. I fought the urge to take a step back and held my ground.
“Look to your colony, Administrator Perry,” Gau said. “It is no longer hidden. From this moment forward, it will be infamous. People will want revenge for what has happened here. All of the Colonial Union will be a target. But this is where it happened.”
“Will you take your revenge, General?” I asked.
“No,” Gau said. “No Conclave ships or troops under my command will return here. This is my word to you. To you, Administrator Perry. You tried to warn me. I owe you this courtesy. But I can only control my own ships and my own troops.” He motioned to his squad. “Right now, these are the troops I control. And I have only one ship under my command. I hope you understand what I am saying to you.”
“I do,” I said.
“Then fare you well, Administrator Perry,” Gau said. “Look to your colony. Keep it safe. I hope for your sake that it will not be as difficult as I expect it will be.” Gau turned and paced double-time to his shuttle to make his departure. I watched him go.
“The plan is simple,” General Rybicki had told me. “We destroy his fleet, all of it, except for his ship. He returns to the Conclave and struggles to keep control of it all as it flies apart. That’s why we keep him alive, you know. Even after this, some will still be loyal to him. The civil war the Conclave members will have with themselves in the aftermath will destroy the Conclave. The civil war will weaken the capabilities of its races of the Conclave far more effectively than if General Gau died and the Conclave disbanded. In a year, the Conclave will smash itself to bits, and the Colonial Union will be in a position to pick up most of the big pieces.”
I watched Gau’s shuttle launch, streaking up into the night.
I hoped General Rybicki was right.
I didn’t think he would be.
ELEVEN
Data from the defense satellite the Colonial Union parked above Roanoke would tell us that the missile cluster that attacked the colony popped into existence on the gasping edge of the planet’s atmosphere and deployed its payload of five rockets almost instantly, blasting the weapons from a cold start into the ever-thickening atmosphere.
The heat shields on two of the rockets failed during the weapons’ entry, collapsing against the white-hot bow wave of the atmosphere. They exploded violently, but not nearly as violently as they would have if their payloads had been armed. Failures at their task, they burned away harmlessly in the upper atmosphere.
The defense satellite tracked the three other rockets and beamed an attack warning to the colony. The message took over every one of the newly reactivated PDAs in the colony and broadcast the warning that an attack was imminent. Colonists dropped their dinner plates, grabbed their children and headed toward the community shelters in the village or family shelters out on the farms. Out among the Mennonite farms, recently installed sirens wailed on the edges of properties.
Closer to town, Jane remotely activated the colony’s defense array, hastily installed once Roanoke was allowed to use modern machinery. Defense array was a grand term for what the defenses were; in this case a series of linked, automated land defenses and two beam turrets at opposite ends of Croatoan village. The beam turrets could theoretically destroy the rockets blasting their way toward us, provided we had the energy to power them fully. We didn’t; our energy grid was powered by solar power. It was sufficient for the colony’s day-to-day energy consumption but woefully inadequate for the intense power the beam weapons required. Each of the turret’s internal power cells could provide five seconds of full use or fifteen seconds of low power use. The low power level might not destroy a missile entirely, but it could fry its navigation core, knocking the thing off-course.
Jane powered down the land guns. We wouldn’t be needing those. She then made a direct connection to the defense satellite and dumped data into her BrainPal at full speed, the better to understand what she would need to do with the beam turrets.
While Jane powered up our defenses the defense satellite determined which of the rockets represented the most immediate threat to the colony and blasted it with its own energy beam. The satellite scored a direct hit and punched a hole into the missile; its sudden lack of aerodynamics tore the thing apart. The satellite retargeted and hit the second of the three remaining rockets, hitting its engine. The missile veered crazily into the sky, the navigation systems unable to compensate for the damage. The missile eventually came down somewhere, so far away from us that we gave it no further thought.
The defense satellite, its own power cells depleted, was unable to do anything about the final missile; it forwarded speed and trajectory data to Jane, who passed the data immediately to the beam turrets. They came online and started tracking.
Beam weapons are focused and coherent but lose energy with distance; Jane maximized the effectiveness of her turrets by allowing the missile to close distance before firing. Jane chose to fire full-throttle at the missile, opening up with both turrets. It was the right decision, because the missile proved incredibly tough. Even with both turrets firing Jane managed only to kill the missile’s brain, knocking out its weapons, engines and navigation. The missile died just above the colony, but its inertia propelled it forward and down at incredible speed.
The dead missile hit the ground a klick outside the village, gouging an unholy gash into fallow fields and spraying propellant into the air, where it ignited. The shock wave from the explosion was a fraction of what it would have been if the missile’s payload had been armed, but was still enough to knock me on my ass a kilometer away and take away my hearing for the better part of an hour. Shards of the missile flew violently in every direction, their momentum increased by the energy of the propellant explosion. Parts of the missile tore through the forest, tearing up Roanoke trees and spraying flames into the foliage. Other parts punctured structures in nearby homesteads, collapsing houses and barns and turning livestock into bloody patches streaked across the ground.
One portion of the missile’s engine casing flung high in the air, arced down and plummeted toward a plot of earth, below which was the recently constructed shelter of the Gugino family. The casing’s impact instantly collapsed the dirt above the shelter, driving it and the casing into the shelter proper. Inside was the entire Gugino family: Bruno and Natalie Gugino, their six-year-old twins Maria and Katherina, and their seventeen-year-old son Enzo. Who had recently begun courting Zoë once more, to some greater success than he had had before.
None of them would be coming out of that shelter.
An entire family gone in an instant. It was unspeakable.
It could have been so much worse.
I spent the hour after the attack collecting reports around the colony on the extent of the damage, and then headed to the Gugino homestead with Savitri. I found Zoë on the Gugino’s porch, sitting listlessly amid the broken glass of the home’s blown-out windows. Hickory stood beside her; Dickory was with Jane at the remains of the sh
elter. They were the only two at the shelter; a small group of men stood some distance away, awaiting Jane’s orders.
I went to Zoë and gave her a fierce hug; she accepted it, but didn’t return it. “Oh, sweetheart,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m all right, Dad,” she said, in a tone that made her words a lie.
“I know,” I said, letting her go. “I’m still sorry. This is a hard thing. I’m not sure this is the best place for you to be right now.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Zoë said.
“You don’t have to,” I said. “I just don’t know if this is good for you to be seeing.”
“I needed to be here,” Zoë said. “I needed to see this for myself.”
“All right,” I said.
“I was supposed to be here tonight,” Zoë said, and motioned back toward the house. “Enzo had invited me to dinner. I told him I would come, but then I lost track of time with Gretchen. I was going to call him to apologize when the warning came up. I was supposed to be here.”
“Honey, you can’t blame yourself for that,” I said.
“I don’t blame myself for it,” Zoë said. “I’m glad I wasn’t here. That’s what I feel bad about.”
I laughed a shaky laugh in spite of myself and gave Zoë another hug. “Oh God, Zoë,” I said. “I’m glad you weren’t here tonight, too. And I don’t feel bad about that. I’m sorry for what happened to Enzo and his family. But I’m glad you were safe with us. Don’t feel bad about being alive, sweetie.” I kissed the top of her head.
“Thanks, Dad,” Zoë said. She didn’t seem entirely convinced.
“I’m going to have Savitri stay with you while I go talk to your mom, okay?” I said.
Zoë gave a small laugh. “What, you don’t think Hickory is comforting enough?” she said.
“I’m sure he is,” I said. “But I’m going to borrow him for a few minutes. All right?”
“Sure, Dad,” Zoë said. Savitri went and sat on the steps with Zoë, drawing her into a hug. I motioned Hickory over to me. He matched my stride as we walked.
“You have your emotion implant on right now?” I asked.
“No,” Hickory said. “Zoë’s grief became too much.”
“Turn it on, please,” I said. “I find it easier to converse with you when it’s on.”
“As you wish,” Hickory said, switched on its implant and then collapsed in a heap.
“What the hell?” I said, stopping.
“I’m sorry,” Hickory said, righting itself. “I told you that Zoë’s emotions were incredibly intense. I’m still working through them. These were new emotions we haven’t had with her before. New emotions are harder to process.”
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I am fine,” Hickory said, standing. “I apologize.”
“Forget it,” I said. “Listen, have you been in contact with the other Obin yet?”
“We have,” Hickory said. “Indirectly, through your satellite data feed. We have only reestablished contact and provided a digest of the events of last year. We have not offered a complete report.”
“Why not?” I asked. We started walking again.
“Your data feed is not secure,” Hickory said.
“You want to report things to your superiors without having the Colonial Union listening in,” I said.
“Yes,” Hickory said.
“What things?” I asked.
“Observations,” Hickory said. “And suggestions.”
“Some time ago you said to me that the Obin would be willing to help us if we needed help,” I said. “Does that offer still stand?”
“It does, so far as I know,” Hickory said. “Are you asking for our help, Major Perry?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I just need to know what my options are.”
Jane looked up at me as we came over. “I don’t want Zoë over here,” she said to me.
“It’s that bad,” I said.
“Worse,” Jane said. “If you want my suggestion, it’s to drag out this engine casing, fill this shelter all the way up with dirt and then put up a headstone. Trying to find enough to bury elsewhere is going to be an exercise in futility.”
“Christ,” I said. I nodded to the engine casing. “Do we know anything about this?”
Jane motioned toward Dickory, who was standing nearby. “Dickory says the markings say it’s Nouri,” she said.
“I don’t know them,” I said.
“The Colonial Union’s had almost no contact with them,” Jane said. “But it’s probably not from them. They have a single planet and they don’t colonize. There’s no reason for them to attack us.”
“Are they part of the Conclave?” I asked.
“No,” Dickory said, coming closer. “But they sell weapons to some of the Conclave members.”
“So this could be a Conclave attack,” I said.
“It’s possible,” Dickory said.
“General Gau said that he wouldn’t attack us,” Jane said.
“He also said he didn’t think he could stop others from attacking,” I said.
“I don’t think this is an attack,” Jane said.
I motioned to the wreckage on the engine casing, which was still giving off heat. “This looks like an attack,” I said.
“If it was an attack we’d all be dead,” Jane said. “This was small and stupidly done to be a genuine attack on the colony. Whoever did this dropped the missiles directly above our colony, where our defense satellite could pick them off and send us information to kill the ones it couldn’t. Stupid for attacking the colony. Not so stupid for testing our defenses.”
“So if they actually managed to destroy the colony that would just have been a bonus,” I said.
“Right,” Jane said. “Now whoever it is that has done this knows what sort of defenses we use and what our capabilities are. And we know nothing about them, other than they’re not stupid enough to mount an attack without knowing how we defend ourselves.”
“It also means the next attack won’t just be five missiles,” I said.
“Probably not,” Jane said.
I studied the wreckage. “We’re sitting ducks,” I said. “We nearly didn’t knock this down, and some of our people are still dead. We need better defenses, now. The Colonial Union put a target on our chests, now it needs to help us to keep people from hitting it.”
“I doubt a strongly worded letter is going to make a difference,” Jane said.
“No,” I agreed. “The San Joaquin is due here in a couple of days to drop supplies. One of us should be on it when it heads back to Phoenix Station. We’ll be a lot harder to ignore if we’re standing in someone’s doorway.”
“You have more faith than I do,” Jane said.
“If we don’t get traction there, we may have other options,” I said, looking at Hickory. I started to say more but noticed Savitri and Zoë coming toward us. I broke off toward them, mindful of Jane’s wish not to let Zoë get too close.
Savitri has out her PDA. “You’ve got some mail,” she said.
“Jesus, Savitri,” I said. “Now is really not the time. Forward it on to Jann.” Since Roanoke had been officially rediscovered, Jane and I had been contacted by every possible media outlet known to man, begging, cajoling or demanding interviews. Five hundred such requests came in with the first official skip drone data packet Roanoke received. Neither Jane nor I had the time or inclination to deal with them, but we knew someone who had both, which is how Jann Kranjic officially became Roanoke’s press secretary.
“I wouldn’t bother you with a media request,” Savitri said. “It’s from the Department of Colonization. It’s marked ‘confidential’ and ‘extremely urgent.’ ”
“What is it about?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Savitri said. “It won’t let me open it.” She handed the PDA over to me to show me that her access was blocked. I signed her out of the PDA and signed me in. A year’s worth of going without a PDA
made me realize both how much I relied on the thing before, and how little I wanted to rely on it now. I still didn’t carry one with me, relying on Savitri to keep me in the loop.
The PDA accepted my biometrics and password and opened the letter.
“Fucking wonderful,” I said, a minute later.
“Is everything all right?” Savitri said.
“Of course not,” I said. “I need you to tell Jane to finish up here as soon as she can and meet me at the administration building the minute she’s done. Then I want you to find Manfred Trujillo and Jann Kranjic and tell them to meet me there as well.”
“All right,” Savitri said. “What’s happening? Can you tell me?”
I handed her back her PDA; she took it. “I’ve been relieved as colony leader,” I said. “And I’ve been summoned to Phoenix Station.”
“Well, you’ve only been temporarily relieved of your job, so that’s a positive,” Manfred Trujillo said, passing the PDA and its letter over to Jann Kranjic. The two of them, Jane, Savitri and Beata, who had accompanied Kranjic, were all jammed into my office, challenging its capacity to hold us all at once. “The fact it’s temporary means that they haven’t already decided to lynch you. They’ll want to talk to you first before they make that decision.”
“Looks like you might get my job after all, Manfred,” I said, from behind my desk.
Trujillo glanced over at Jane, who was standing at the edge of the desk. “I think I would need to go through her first, and I’m not sure that’s going to happen.”
“I’m not going to stay in this job without John,” Jane said.
“You’re more than capable of doing the job,” Trujillo said. “And no one would oppose you.”
“I’m not questioning my competence,” Jane said. “I just won’t keep the job.”
