by Alex Kings
The Albascene capital appeared at first to be a tiny island. It was less than a kilometre across. Half its surface was a tarmac plain for landing shuttles and ships. The other half was covered in auxiliary buildings – angular dodecahedral structures of polished aluminium, glittering in the sun.
Hanson settled the shuttle into its assigned berth and stepped out.
An Albascene was waiting for them. After hurrying through its list of regulations and penalties, it said, “Captain Hanson, welcome to Laikon. Given your reason for visiting, we have assigned a member of the civil service to speak to you. Please tell me if you don't need this service.”
Hanson looked at Moore.
She shrugged.
“Okay,” he told the Albascene. “We'll talk to it.”
“Your appointment is in 36 minutes. Please ensure you arrive six minutes early to prevent delays. Here are the directions.” The Albascene gave Hanson a datachip. “Please enjoy your stay.” It floated off to greet someone else.
Hanson read the chip with his tablet. It offered a map. Glowing points in red and green showed their current location and destination.
And then he saw: The city was far larger than this little island. It extended out into the ocean fifty kilometres in every direction, forming a web of underwater structures.
“Let's look around,” said Hanson. “Agatha and Srak, take the north section. Moore, you're with me in the south. We'll meet again outside the office. Keep an eye out for any free unguarded computer terminals, or anything that might give Yilva an access point. And watch Petaur relations with the Albascene.”
So they looked around. At the edges of the island, broad tunnels opened up, sloping down into the ocean. Some Albascene glided down the tunnels on their effector fields, some went into the sea directly.
The tunnels were lined with regular portholes that let in a dim, blue light. They gave off deep, echoing, watery clangs. Sometimes they branched into other tunnels, or into various rooms. The ceilings were thick with signs in Isk and the Albascene language, directing pedestrians or forbidding all manner of activities. Airlocks were placed at regular intervals. Hanson saw one open to reveal an Albascene who had just come in from outside.
There were public terminals built into the walls, but all of them were guarded with Albascene in laser-studded security suits.
As for the Petaurs, there seemed to be nothing amiss. No obvious signs of unrest. Everything was calm and orderly.
“Where are all the Petaurs?” Moore whispered.
Hanson realised this with a jolt. Normally you'd see Petaur work teams, or Petaur PAs and servants following the richer Albascene. Usually there were about half as many Petaurs as Albascene.
But now …
There were one or two. They followed their Albascene employers with their heads down and eyes on the floor. But the rest were nowhere to be seen.
When they met up again, Agatha looked glum. “No luck. Everything's guarded,” she said.
“Same here,” Hanson said. “Did you see many Petaurs?”
“Tried counting them,” Srak said. “Didn't get past twenty.”
“Maybe we'll get some answers here, then,” said Hanson. He looked up at the door. In glowing neon Isk letters, it said, “Office 3447.”
The map also offered a counter – translated from Albascene time units into seconds. Hanson watched them fall away.
The counter hit zero and the door opened simultaneously.
“Captain Hanson!” the Albascene on the other side said. “Thank you for being prompt. Please come in.”
The office had no desk, no chairs. There was a screen on the far wall. Its occupant – wearing an unremarkable suit with no decorations – was connecting to the network by means of a small cable leading to a socket in the corner.
“Now, I understand you've had some … shall we say, 'problems' with Albascene administrations in the past. On Tethya city, and more recently on Kalbraica. Is that correct?”
Hanson gave his team a look. Is this guy for real? Though, when it came to Albascene, the answer was, invariably –
“Yes,” he said.
“Good, good,” said the Albascene. “It's always good to make sure. There's no need to worry about those. That was the AC3 corporation in both instances. This is the government. Any problems you have with them fall outside my purview.” Its middle section rotated in a satisfied sort of gesture. “Now, what brings you here?”
Hanson took a moment to steady his thoughts. It was important to be diplomatic – at this stage, anyway. “I have heard there are some problems with relations between Petaurs and Albascene. On behalf of the Anti-Dominion Coalition, I'd like to investigate the problem and see what I can do to help.”
“I see,” said the Albascene. “As I understand it, you are facing some serious problems of your own, regarding a coup on your homeworld. Why are you troubling yourself with Laikon?”
“As I said, I'm here on behalf of the coalition. When I talked to the Albascene ambassador to Tethya, he said Laikon had problems of its own. You see, it's in our best interest to help you, because if we do, you'll be in a better position to defend against the Ancient ships.”
The Albascene was silent for a few moments. “Thank you for your concern,” it said. “But I fear you have come all this way for nothing. There is no conflict between the Albascene and the Petaurs on Laikon.”
“Really?” said Hanson. “None at all?”
“There was a minor diplomatic incident regarding the status of the Free Petaurs, but that is now over. Relations on Laikon are peaceable, and everything is in its proper place.”
“Well, if the ambassador was correct, there were big problems quite recently.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny any statement made by the Albascene ambassador to Tethya. You will have to speak to it directly.”
“And how do I do that?”
“I'm afraid the ambassador is currently occupied. You say you represent a coalition with the Tethyans. Perhaps they are best suited to seek the ambassador's opinion. There is nothing I can do for you here.”
Hanson watched the Albascene in silence. The segments of its suit turned in opposite directions, then went still.
There was no benefit in staying. “Alright,” he said. “That's all.”
“If there is anything else I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask,” said the Albascene.
“I think we'll be fine,” Hanson said, and left the office.
Walking down the great underwater tunnel, Agatha said, “So I guess that did a fat load of sod all to help us.”
“Not quite,” Hanson said quietly. “It shows they're scared enough to try and deny it.”
His comm chimed.
“How are things going on the surface?” Lanik asked.
“Not tremendously well. Though I was expecting as much.”
“Well, sir, you might want to come back up here. We have someone who wants to talk to you.”
Chapter 20: Charin
Charin appeared on the command console's display. Several Petaurs were looking over his shoulder or hanging from the ceiling behind him. “Hello, Captain,” he said.
“Charin,” said Hanson. “There you are! The Tethyans are looking everywhere for you, you know.” He checked the signal. It was coming from a comm buoy. “Speaking of which, where are you?”
“In the shadow of another moon,” said Charin. “We could only get an old ship. It doesn't have any stealth capacity.”
“I assume your ship's not so old that we got to Laikon before you. In which case, why are you still up here and not down there?” Hanson raised his hands. “Not that I'm complaining.”
“I know where my family, and the families of the other Petaurs, are being held. But there's too much security. Again, we have no stealth.”
“Right,” said Hanson. “So what you could really use is some sort of stealth shuttle?”
Charin leaned forward without speaking.
“Like the ones
in our shuttlebay?”
“Yes.”
“Give me a moment,” Hanson said.
He killed the connection and looked over at Lanik. “What do you think?”
“Using our stealth shuttles to go undercover on the Albascene homeworld and interfere with their affairs?” Lanik said. “It sounds eminently sensible.” He offered another one of his faint smiles. “But speaking seriously, it may be the best option. If we don't help, the Free Petaurs will go without us and almost certainly get captured. Yilva will follow them, no doubt. Helping them is the best way to go forward in our mission.”
Hanson nodded.
Lanik continued, “On the other hand, if we're discovered, you may as well strike the Albascene's name off your list permanently.”
“Yes, it's probably best if we don't get discovered.”
“That always helps.” Lanik smiled again. Looking at him, Hanson recalled the stuck-up XO who had challenged him when he first tried to help an alien.
Soon after, he gathered his team in the conference room. He extended a tablet and set it upright on the table. “Put the Petaurs though,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” said Miller.
An upside-down Petaur's face appeared on the screen. There was some brief chatter, then Charin bounded up and replaced it.
“We're willing to help,” said Hanson. “Where are they being held?”
“On the estate of an Albascene named Karnasc,” said Charin. “He's the descendent of the Albascene team who first began the Petaur rescue and created the indenture system. He's the fourth richest Albascene on Laikon, and he has a reputation for being … unsympathetic.”
Charin paused to transmit some supplementary data. Hanson extended the tablet further and called up the new data. Amongst it all was a view of three ridiculously ornate Albascene suits – Karnasc's wardrobe, evidently – and a map of the estate. Mostly underwater, it covered a little over 3,000 square kilometres, encompassing six small islands, and various floating shipyards and platforms.
“Are all your families in this single estate?” asked Hanson.
“Yes,” said Charin. “We've been listening in. Karnasc takes the Petaurs from their employers and replaces them with some of his own. He thinks it'll give him even more clout with the Albascene government.”
“Alright. What's the plan?”
“He has several structures that might be private prisons,” said Charin. “We'll need to get into his system …”
“Here!” Yilva raised her hand.
Charin grinned. “Then we can find out where they're being kept. Our best access point is here.”
“We can get there without being detected,” said Hanson. “But what about once we're inside?”
“Karnasc's estate is huge. Most of it isn't patrolled.”
“There will be automated defence systems,” said Yilva. “But I can deal with those.”
Hanson looked over the map once more. They'd have to dock the shuttle underwater. Then head down to some sort of anteroom. Then walk through a hundred metres or so of tunnels.
It would be difficult, but doable.
“We'll take two shuttles,” he said. “It'll be a bit cramped going back, but they'll be able to fit everyone in. Yilva, Vyren, Agatha, Srak, you're coming down with me. Charin, is there anyone on your team you want coming with you?”
Charin shook his head. “That should be enough.”
“I assume you don't want to take your ship out of the moon's shadow. I'll send a stealth shuttle to pick you up.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Charin.
As they were leaving the meeting, Agatha fell into step beside Hanson and said, “What is it with you and Petaur jailbreaks? And the numbers keep going up!”
Hanson smiled. “The thought had occurred to me,” he said. “At this rate I'll be freeing the whole bloody planet before the year is over.”
Chapter 21: It's Always Nice to Have Visitors
Late afternoon in Iona. It could almost pass for a normal day. Bright sunlight slanted down, making the marble and metal facades of the buildings glitter. Cars and hovercraft glided down the street. People gathered on the pavement to chat. Microfactories in the distance continued to operate.
IL had the ships, but not the manpower. They could threaten to destroy the colony from orbit, but they couldn't put boots on the ground – at least not in the numbers required. So, for the moment, they satisfied themselves with controlling space.
Still, Iona's government offices, along with their communications equipment, had been raided. Orlov walked past them without looking, and instead headed for her home. Some of her fellow rebels accompanied her.
It was a modest building, similar to the others on the street – a white-painted bungalow with a small garden and a wooden door painted in crisp blue. Her (former) secretary was waiting outside.
“Where's the Ancient ship?” she asked him, holding up her tablet to a small panel on the door to unlock it.
“Same orbit as before.” The Ancient ship regularly changed its orbit, probably to make its position harder to predict.
“Good,” said Orlov. “It should be in position soon.”
She led her little team down into the basement, then down another flight of stairs to a chamber behind that.
“Huh,” said one of her companions.
“I kept it just to be prepared,” said Orlov.
The bulkwave transmitter was powered by its own microfusion unit. Together, all the equipment took up most of the second basement, leaving just enough space by the stairs for them to gather.
Orlov tapped on a console, entered a password, and the machine began to power up.
“I thought the Dominion were blocking bulkwave,” said her companion.
“And so they are,” said Orlov. “Their signal is strong enough to work even when they're below the horizon. But no system is perfect.”
The console displayed a bar of signal strength. It was empty.
“I'm wondering, what happens when they're on the far side of the planet? On the very opposite side? Their jamming will have to penetrate right through the core. And that might just be dense enough to stop it.”
“It should be in position any moment now,” said her secretary.
The signal bar moved.
Everyone went silent.
For a moment it hovered, jumping between 1% and 3%. Then it leapt up. It held at 35%.
They waited.
It dropped back to nothing again.
“Eight seconds,” said her secretary.
“At less than 40%,” said her companion. “Is that enough to send a message?”
“We won't know until we try,” said Orlov. “Our next window is in two hours.”
*
Charin bounded out of the shuttle, ducking under the gullwing door before it was fully opened. He peered around the shuttle bay, blinking. “Cleaner than I remember,” he said.
Before he could get any further, Yilva had swept him up into a hug. This lasted for maybe half a second, then Charin extracted himself, and shook Hanson's hand.
“We're ready if you are,” Hanson said.
Charin hefted a backpack out of the shuttle. “I have these,” he said, delving into the bag. “Albascene stun-prod catapults. We had an engineer mount them on a carbine scaffolding, so you can fire them easily.”
“In case we find any Petaur staff who give us resistance?” asked Yilva.
“Yes.”
Agatha stepped up and took one of the guns. “Not as cool as my usual loadout,” she murmured, examining it. “Nice workmanship, though.” She slung it on her back alongside Mr. Shooty.
Srak held one in the palm of his hands. “Think I'll pass,” he said. “Let you handle if it there's anyone you need to knock out.”
Hanson looked over one. Only twenty shots. But from what he recalled, the projectiles bounced. It could be useful in a pinch.
“Alright,” he said. “If we do meet resistance, no promises, but I'll do
what I can. Ready?”
“Ready,” said Charin.
“Then let's move.”
Charin turned out to be familiar with Alliance controls. He and Yilva took one shuttle, and Hanson, Vyren, Srak, and Agatha took the other.
They descended slowly. Agatha practiced with her new catapult by aiming it at the wall and whispering, “Pew, pew.”
At first, it was hard to pick out Karnasc's estate. There was just water and islands. As they came closer, Hanson picked out a fence with pontoons surrounding it. Presumably it went all the way down to the seabed. And inside, the dark ghostly shapes of underwater structures became visible. It was immense. It was ridiculous.
They homed in on the co-ordinates. At the surface of the water, Hanson called Charin on the comms, and told him to stop before going inside. They held position for a few seconds, scanning with passive sensors. Nothing had a direct visual.
“Take us under, slowly.”
The two shuttles slipped below the surface. Blue light filtered in through the windows and dimmed gradually as they descended.
The underwater structure emerged from the gloom. It was a broad underwater tunnel. There were two airlocks on either side. Hanson aligned the shuttle with one of the airlocks and extended a smart matter collar between the two, which connected with a muffled thump.
There was a brief pause as the water drained. Then Hanson opened the shuttle's door. He led his team through the airlock into the tunnel to meet Charin and Yilva, who had docked on the other side.
“This way,” Charin said.
They tried to walk quietly, but the tunnel seemed to return ringing echoes of every footstep. Still, there was no-one about.
The tunnel led to a broad, pentagonal antechamber with a low roof. Holes in the floor led to lower layers. In the middle of the room, a clear tank of water ran from floor to ceiling. It was inlaid with a filigree of gold and brass. Four of the walls were lined with sculptures and photographs. The fifth wall was covered in a bank of screens. Yilva bounded over to it and connected her tablet.
