“There’s nothing much private about it. That’s my biggest problem. What about you? What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to Nelson. I have a favor to ask.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to get some people off Boongate. A Senate Security team was following a suspected Starflyer agent and got stuck there. My fault.”
“I doubt it. Do you want me to talk to Nigel about it? He has the final say on that.”
Hoshe gave her a surprised look. “You can do that?”
“For you, of course.”
“Might be worth it.” He didn’t sound very certain.
“Just say the word. I owe you.”
“No you don’t.”
“A month’s unisphere access, and a week at a B and B if I remember rightly. There’s a lot of interest piling up in that account, Hoshe Finn.”
“Another time, another universe.”
“I’d still like to repay you.”
“I’m not sure it’s worth it. Look, this is just about over now. Sheldon will destroy the Prime homeworld; Paula and the Guardians will track down and eliminate the Starflyer. Everybody needs to start thinking what they’re going to do after the war, because life is going to be a whole lot sweeter then. After what we’ve all been through, it can’t be anything else.”
“God, I hadn’t even thought about afterward. I’ve been so scared since Randtown. Trying to keep one step ahead takes up every moment.”
“You’re a damn good reporter. I bet you wind up with your own show.”
“That’d be nice,” she said, and it was a comfy thought, the kind she had before the ships flew down out of a clean Randtown sky, and her world turned upside down. Again. “I could do with something that’s going to last.”
“Well, there you go then.”
“There’s just one thing I’ve got to do first.”
Hoshe gave a mock-groan. “What?”
“I’m going to cover Alessandra Baron’s arrest. I want to see her led away in chains. I want to show the entire Commonwealth that most beautiful sight.”
“They don’t manacle people anymore. Besides, if she’s a Starflyer agent it’s likely to get violent.”
“Here’s hoping,” Mellanie muttered with a wicked smirk. “Who’s going to be the arresting officer?”
“Hasn’t been assigned yet,” Hoshe said, with an eye on Nelson and the Raiel.
“But you could put in for it, couldn’t you? You could do that while I speak to Nigel. How about that? A trade, not a repayment.”
“Done.”
The maglev express was almost empty. After all, who in their right mind would travel to Wessex right now?
Alic walked out of the first-class carriage onto the nearly deserted platform in the Narrabri station’s Oxsorrol terminal. The three cases carrying his armor suit and weapons followed loyally a few meters behind. Vic Russell was close on his heels, eager to get going. Matthew Oldfield, John King, and Jim Nwan formed a rearguard group, trying to keep their conversation lighthearted. It wasn’t going well, every movement agitated some injury sustained on Illuminatus. Alic knew they shouldn’t be going into combat again so soon, but this mission overrode any kind of by-the-book protocol. Besides, he kept telling himself, there were five of them, and they’d raided the Paris office armory for some serious heavy-caliber hardware. There would be no repeat of Treetops no matter what Tarlo was equipped with this time.
Two men were waiting for them on the platform outside their carriage. One of them was in a navy captain’s uniform. Alic recognized him immediately. “Captain Monroe?”
“Pleased to meet you. Daniel Alster here is our liaison with CST for this operation, and we have some very good news for you.”
“We can go?” Vic demanded.
“Yes,” Oscar said.
“All right!” Vic high-fived with John King.
“We have some transport for you gentlemen.” Daniel gestured at a big Ford ten-seater Holan parked on the side of the platform. “It’ll take us over to the station’s track engineering facility.”
“What’s there?” Vic asked.
“A train that will take you through the wormhole.”
“How long before we go through?”
“Once you’re suited up, we can take you straight to the gateway,” Daniel said, unperturbed by the big man’s attitude.
“Thank you,” Alic said before Vic could make a scene. He was already regretting agreeing to the big man coming on the mission. Even if they were successful in engaging Tarlo he wasn’t sure they could get him into the cage they’d brought.
“You should know the gateway will only be opening once,” Oscar said. “After you’re through, you will be evacuating into the future with the rest of the population.”
“We accept that,” Alic said. He wondered if he should give Vic another chance to withdraw. Once the mission was over, the big man would be separated from Gwyneth for a long time.
The Ford drove them to one of the eight long sheds that housed CST’s Wessex track engineering division. A single gentian-blue carriage was waiting for them, which looked like it had been in service for a century at least. There was a tiny cabin at the front, with five rows of bench seats giving the track crew a view through grimy windows. Three-quarters of the spartan metal-panel interior was simply storage space for bots and equipment. Long doors at the rear had their own lift platforms, which were folded up against the sides.
“It’s not fast,” Alster said as they climbed up the ladders to the cabin. “But it is reliable, and it can get you there easily enough. The drive array has modern software; traffic control can take you straight across the station yard to the gateway. I’ll be in the control center myself to supervise the opening.”
“Thanks,” Alic told him. The rest of the team was climbing up to see what they’d got.
“Your cases can come up on the door elevators,” Alster told them. “If you’d like to get suited up now, we can begin.”
“Keep a communications link open to me from now on,” Oscar said.
“Will do,” Alic said. “And thank Nigel Sheldon for the opportunity. It means a lot to us.”
“I know.” Oscar backed out of the door, and went down the short ladder to the ground.
“All right,” Alic said. “Jim, get the doors open and our cases inside. We need to be ready. Matthew, establish a link to Edmund Li. Let’s find out what the bastard’s up to. Then we can finalize our game plan.”
The Ables ND47 was fully automatic, of course. New arrays had been installed during its refurbishment; the drive software was capable of controlling it through the maze of tracks that made up all of CST’s planetary stations and then taking the engine out on the main lines of whatever planet it was visiting.
There were manual systems fitted, but they were there to comply with safety regulations rather than necessity. Adam gazed over the broad console that took up the entire front portion of the tiny cab sitting atop the huge engine. The two narrow windows in front gave him a view along the top of the engine, where the darkish purple metal segments were riddled with long black grilles and stumpy tarnished-chrome vent pipes. When he turned around, the single rear window showed him the two long wagons pressing up against the engine. Display screens along the back of the console filled with graphics that illustrated the coupling integration diagnostics at work, checking the integrity of the connections. The left-hand side of the console was a burgundy color, containing all the nuclear micropile controls and readouts. A completely new console section, which was fixed to newly welded brackets on the wall, presented the control systems for the force field and armaments the Guardians had grafted on in the last few days. That was why they’d agreed someone should be in the cab, though again with modern control arrays it wasn’t strictly necessary. They all just felt more confident with someone up there.
Adam saw the last of the mobile gantries lower its platform, and roll away from the engine. When he stuck his head o
ut of the cab door, he could see Kieran walking among the engineeringbots as they fussed around the wheels.
His e-butler told him a call was coming in from Marisa McFoster.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Victor’s on the move,” she said. “There’s a whole load of vehicles driving out of the Sunforge warehouse. Vans and small trucks, all shielded—we can’t see what’s inside.”
“Where are they going?”
“It looks like they’re heading for the gateway. They’re not using any of the yard’s service roads, they’re just driving right across the rails.”
“Don’t expose yourself,” he told her. “Just maintain the observation.”
“Is this it, is the Starflyer coming?”
“I don’t know. But we’re ready for it.” Adam sounded a single blast on the engine’s horn that reverberated around the big shed. He couldn’t resist; he leaned out of the cab door and bellowed: “All aboard.”
Wilson knew he should dump his irritation toward Dudley Bose; it really wasn’t helpful. But there was just something about the astronomer that rubbed him the wrong way. He’d been furious when the old man lobbied himself onto the Second Chance; he’d been exasperated with the young re-lifer who hadn’t adjusted to his new circumstances, and now the man had all his memories back and seemed a whole lot more rational, he was still irritating, still pressing for attention, getting in the way.
It had seemed like a good idea while they waited for the various arrest squads to bring in known Starflyer agents, and Paula and Nigel began their search for the actual alien itself. Wilson and Anna had gone over to the Bose motile when it finished talking to Qatux, and asked if it had accessed the signal that the Far Away flare had broadcast.
“No,” it said, “I haven’t.”
“The Commonwealth has never been able to translate it,” Wilson said. “But if you’re right about the Starflyer being an alienPrime—”
“I understand,” the Bose motile said. “I should be able to translate it for you.”
“I’d like you to try,” Wilson said. “It’s been bothering me ever since we found out what the Starflyer is. Suppose it was talking to another ship?”
“That’s unlikely,” Dudley Bose said. He’d inched his way closer to them as soon as Wilson started talking to the Bose motile.
Wilson pressed his teeth together, then smiled tightly. “Why’s that?”
“The flare emission was omnidirectional.”
“I imagine their ships would have remained silent during flight so as not to attract attention from whoever built the barriers,” Anna said. “Once the Starflyer had landed, it wouldn’t know where any of the others are. It would have to broadcast in all directions.”
“Which it actually didn’t,” the Bose motile said. “The Far Away star has a rotation of twenty-five days. As the flare only lasted for seven days, the signal was only broadcast across a relatively narrow sector of the galaxy, one that didn’t include the Dyson Pair; in fact, the star’s bulk would have shielded them from the signal.”
“Can we just examine the signal?” Wilson said. He was beginning to regret mentioning it. His e-butler accessed the national library on Damaran, and pulled out a recording of the signal.
They all waited while the Bose motile reviewed it. The initial flurry of activity in the lecture theater that had accompanied Qatux’s arrival was now dying down. Most of the technical systems were set up, Qatux and Tiger Pansy were talking together, Cat’s Claws remained on duty by the main entrance, Nelson maintained a number of his own security staff around himself and Paula. The only person Wilson couldn’t see was Mellanie.
“Simple enough,” the Bose motile said. “It’s basically an identity, which is MorningLightMountain17,735, followed by a short message: I am here. If any of I/us survive, contact me or fly here. The patterns are a very old form, but the content is easy enough to decipher, there is little ambiguity.”
“Did we ever detect another flare?” Anna asked. “An answer to the Starflyer?”
“No,” Dudley said.
“That doesn’t mean there wasn’t one,” the Bose motile said. “If another survivor picked up the signal, it could have used an interstellar communications maser to reply. Their ships were all equipped with them. The Commonwealth would never see that.”
Wilson was thinking along similar lines. “So we don’t actually know if there are any more of these alienPrimes at loose.”
“If one survived, it is logical to assume there could be others,” the Bose motile said. “Though I doubt there can be many; the Dyson Beta Primes had only just started building starships; they didn’t have the production capacity of Dyson Alpha when the barriers were established. The numbers would be small.”
“But if any of them landed on a world more useful than Far Away, there’s no telling how big their civilization is by now. Primes almost match the old nightmare of exponential expansion.”
“You should assume that the Dyson Alpha Primes had starships in flight as well,” Anna said.
“We are going to have to conduct an extensive search of stars in that sector of the galaxy,” the Bose motile said. “The problem could be more widespread than originally thought.”
“If Nigel Sheldon does initiate novas, the problem will be considerably reduced,” Dudley said.
The lecture theater’s main doors opened, and Oscar walked through. He caught sight of Wilson and waved happily.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Wilson said, smiling happily.
“I might ask you the same thing,” Oscar said after he’d collected his kiss from Anna. “You should have carried him off back to York5 and started a decent honeymoon,” he scolded her.
“Don’t think I didn’t want to,” she said wistfully. “So when did you get back?”
“About five hours ago.”
“Damn, I’m glad you’re okay,” Wilson said. “Are you reloading?”
“The Dublin is, yes. I’ve got another job.”
“What? Columbia isn’t being difficult about you being one of my placements, is he?”
“No, quite the opposite. Columbia is coming around to the idea the Starflyer might be genuine. I’ve been appointed as a glorified messenger boy.” He explained the Paris team’s mission. “Sheldon said you’d brief me on this little black ops setup you’ve got running here. Is that really a Raiel?” He was staring at Qatux.
“Yes, it really is,” Wilson said. “It’s called Qatux, and it’s agreed to help us root out Starflyer agents.”
“Uh huh.” Oscar faced the Bose motile. “And that alien?”
“It’s a Prime,” Anna said with a laugh. “Our deadliest enemy.”
“The good news is that this one is harmless and on our side,” Wilson said.
“And the bad?”
“It’s yet another version of Dudley Bose.”
Alic ran the integration program one last time. The additional weapons mounted on his armor suit responded properly. Two particle lances on malmetal arms that were secured to the base of his spine rose up over his shoulders, and swung from side to side as his sensors ran a targeting program. They locked on to Vic, whose armor suit had almost doubled in size thanks to the backpack missile dispenser.
“Hey, careful who you’re pointing those things at,” Vic complained.
The particle lances retracted, folding back parallel to Alic’s spine. He was as anxious as any first-day recruit to fire them. He hadn’t known particle lances could be built so small, and even with modern power cells he didn’t have many shots. Of course, without the armor and malmetal he could barely pick one up, they weighed so much; he couldn’t imagine what they were made out of, solid uranium by the feel of it.
John King and Jim Nwan both had rotary launches on their forearms, with a flexible feed tube snaking around to their backpacks. Matthew Oldfield was carrying all the electronic warfare systems; there were so many sneekbots clinging to his suit, he looked like the king of the insects.
Matthew also managed the cage, three large matte-black mobile cubes that should be powerful enough to hold Tarlo.
Alic was mildly impressed that the carriage floor could take their combined weight. He brought the management array systems up into his virtual vision. Midnight-black hands flicked over the control icons. Narrabri station traffic control responded with a transit authorization, and they started moving with a small judder.
“We’re on the move,” he told Oscar.
“Okay, I’ll inform Alster. He’s in the gateway control center. What’s Tarlo doing?”
“Li says he’s still up in the security room.”
“You sure you want to do this?”
“It’s not quite what I thought I’d be doing when I woke up this morning, but yeah.”
“Good luck.”
“Yeah, see you in fifteen years.”
Their speed built up as soon as they left the track maintenance division shed. The station force field curved overhead, a gray film smearing the sky. Above that, the Narrabri city force field extended from horizon to horizon, its apex reaching out of the troposphere. The borealis storms had died down now, though the highly charged atmosphere was still plagued by severe lightning storms. Brutal blue-white flashes rippled around the boundary of the city force field. Alic felt ridiculously safe underneath all that technological protection. The Primes had flung their worst at Wessex, and the Big15 planet remained secure. It made him confident for the future.
The carriage snaked over points every few seconds, clicking and rattling as it moved to a different set of rails, then switching again. Long trains slid past on either side, blurs of lighted windows. Up ahead, a long stretch of pale rosy light spilled out from the gateways to douse the myriad tracks. It had gaps in it, dark shadowy sections. Gateways to the Second47, Alic thought. They’d never shine their unique starlight here again. The knowledge made him sad.
“Anything new on Tarlo?” he asked Matthew.
“No, Boss.”
“Okay.” He knew there wasn’t. Just had to do something to distract his nerves, which were far too jumpy.
The carriage lined up on the cliff face of gateways and carried on forward at a much slower speed. There were fewer trains running on this section of the station yard. They passed a GH7 class engine waiting on a siding; the massive machine only had five wagons attached, their pea-green metal bodywork caked in topaz sand thick enough to obscure their company logo.
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