Starswarm

by Jerry Pournelle

  Everything had been going smoothly. The Hilliard group made an alliance with American Express, and between them they'd have the resources to take control of GWE. All Henry Tarleton had to do was sabotage Bernard Trent's efforts to fight the takeover. Get that done and retire, not with the millions GWE would have paid him for faithful service, but billions, enough to be an extremely important man on any planet but Earth. Enough to be noticed even there.

  You could live well with a billion dollars, and it was all arranged, and he'd teach the damned Trents to ignore his mother. She was a Trent too, everything but the name. Her father, Henry Tarleton's grandfather, was a Trent. Of course he wouldn't give the Trent name to a kid born to a prostitute. Henry Tarleton remembered his grandmother, still pretty in her fifties, retired from all that.

  Henry had grown up in a good house, and went to good schools. That was no problem. The Trents were generous enough to his mother. They'd give her money. Money, but no name.

  His grandmother had raised his mother to stay away from the streets, good schools, polite society, and she'd done the same for Henry. She'd only once let slip that Henry's grandfather was one of the Trent heirs. After that she wouldn't talk about it, but Henry had looked it up, read all about the Trents. He took a new name, one the Trents had never heard of, and he studied hard. Law, accounting, police work, geography, politics, everything needed to be a company police executive. Eventually he went to work for the Trents. If they wouldn't give him his inheritance, he'd get it another way.

  And everything had been going well. It had looked like a piece of cake.

  Now this. What had looked like some kind of kid's pranks out in the boonies had turned into a first-class mess. Tarleton's computers were now certain that this fugitive kid, Brewster he called himself, was really the Trent heir, and the guy everyone called Uncle Mike was Harold Trent's man Gallegher. Gallegher was supposed to be dead. So was the Trent kid. Tarleton's men had sworn they'd seen them dead, Michelle Trent's helicopter down in flames in the sea with all three of them aboard it. Tarleton scowled again. He hadn't really trusted those reports, but there'd been no way to check. They'd found Harold Trent's body, but they never found the wreckage of Michelle's helicopter. Over the years there'd been no trace of Gallegher or the Trent kid or his mother, so he'd relaxed his guard. He should have kept looking for them.

  Thinking about what he should have done was a waste of time. It wasn't too late to fix things. Tarleton stood at the window and looked out to sea. The weather reports said a storm was brewing out there somewhere, but so far the only signs were some dark clouds well offshore and far to the south. He thought about Mr. Bernard Trent in the corner office down the hall to his right. His cousin. Trent didn't know that, just as he didn't know his nephew was still alive. Not yet, and if Colonel Baskins could move fast enough, Bernie Trent would never know. He would be upset to learn he'd been cut off, communications intercepted, but he could only learn that from the people who'd tried to call him. If there weren't any of those people, how would Trent ever know?

  That whole research station would have to go, along with all the police who weren't his agents. Fifty people, maybe more. Tough on them, but he couldn't see any other way. There'd be a hell of an investigation, but he could handle that. Kids playing with explosives and poison gas. Terrible tragedy. Lot of sympathy, but having that station gone would sure make everything simpler.

  No more research station to fight strip mining. One big bang and some bad smells, and everything would be fine.

  But first Baskins had to find Gallegher and that kid.

  For a moment Tarleton was tempted to go out there himself, but he knew that would be pointless. He lifted the phone and punched in his personal security codes for an encrypted call.

  "Baskins."

  "Tarleton. Report."

  "They're holed up in a cave," Baskins said. "Tried to get them by surprise, but Gallegher was ready for us."

  "You sure it's Gallegher?"

  "No doubt about it. And the bastard has kidnapped two of my men, shot two more who were trying to get into the cave. I don't have enough troops to storm that cave, and now it would be pretty hard to get them to do it if I did."

  "Use gas, or high explosives. Preferably both. We don't need them alive."

  "Understood, but it takes time to get enough of that stuff together, especially since we're going to need more to do the station, and we don't want to be too obvious about it—"

  "Understood," Tarleton said. "But there are time elements."

  "Yes, sir," Baskins said. "But that's on your end. On my end we have the station sealed up. No calls or traffic in or out. Same with the cave, and I've got troops covering the downhill exits as well. They're not getting out of there. Out here we have plenty of time. You handle your end, I'll take care of mine."

  "Don't be too long. When?"

  "Tomorrow, I think," Baskins said. "I should have everything I need by tomorrow."

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Full Gale

  THE research tug Raphael could skim across calm water at a steady twenty-one knots, but the waves rolled it heavily enough that by late afternoon they had made not more than sixteen knots average, including a twenty-minute stop at noon to let the eel—that one or another like it—top off the fuel cell charges. Kip's pictures were confused, but he didn't think there would be another. Mr. Harriman said they had enough power to get to Pearly Gates if they didn't have to run for shelter. The seas off the starboard beam rose steadily, and the ship rolled more each hour. The dogs lay miserable in the cabin below, the centaur lay at the stern deck, a picture of misery, and Kip was feeling a little green. Lara stood at the windward rail and breathed deeply, obviously feeling fine. Kip hated her.

  "I don't like that wind at all," Lon Harriman said. He pointed east where the clouds rose like black towers into the sky. "That's a hurricane building up out there, and the satellite reports show it's coming toward us."

  "What should we do?" Lara asked. She eyed the approaching storm. "It looks pretty scary."

  "We have to get to Pearly Gates," Kip said. "And soon."

  "Sure, but—"

  "I have to give the Starswarm at Pearly Gates the message gourds," Kip said. "I don't know what's in the messages, but they're important." He thought of the GWE tower falling and shuddered.

  "You told us," Harriman said. "But what do you expect to accomplish?"

  "The lake Starswarm likes us," Kip said. "Or at least it doesn't hate us the way the Pearly Gates Starswarm does. Gwen told me the sea Starswarms respect the lake Starswarm, and I sure have that impression from the sea Starswarm by your research station. I don't know why."

  "I think I do," Harriman said. "Dr. Budonnic chose that lake to study because it was the oldest one she found. It may be a million years old. Geologically a lake shouldn't last anything like that long. Lakes fill with algae and turn into meadows. This one didn't. Mary had some kind of theory that the Starswarm preserved the lake, which would mean that it was a million years old. And up there on that equatorial plateau it gets more high energy sunlight than any other Starswarm on the planet. So maybe it's no coincidence the others respect it."

  "It seems odd to use words like 'respect' about a plant," Mrs. Harriman said.

  "It's not really a plant," Lon Harriman said. "But I know what you mean. I've been studying that thing for ten years now and I never suspected it was conscious. But that still doesn't explain how the sea Starswarm is going to destroy a whole city."

  Kip told him about the pictures of the GWE tower falling, and the bronze plaque of Pearly Gates in ruins.

  "And you think the Starswarms can do that?" Harriman asked.

  "Gwen thought it was possible," Kip said. "The lake Starswarm does too, and I think that's what all these message gourds are for, to stop it."

  "How do you know all this?"

  "I just know it," Kip said. "The way I know that one of these backpacks is full of gourds that identify us to the Starswarms we mee
t along the way to Pearly Gates, and the other is just for the one at Pearly Gates. When I—call it talking, but it isn't—when I talk to the Starswarm a lot of things happen at once. It's like Gwen was able to pour in information without my thinking about it. But I know it, Mr. Harriman, and I don't think we have much time."

  "That storm hits us, we won't have any time at all," Harriman said. "Look." He pointed to the coastal chart spread out on the table. "Right now we can still run for shelter in one of these bays. By dark we'll be too far north. If that storm hits us after sundown, we'll have to fight our way offshore. There'll be no place to run."

  "Will the boat take it?" Kip asked.

  "Probably. It's pretty sturdy. As long as we have power, and your friends took care of that, we'll be all right if we stay away from the rocks. But we sure won't be making much way to the north, we'll mostly be fighting to stay afloat." Harriman shrugged. "I guess we really don't have any choices." He went back to the steersman's seat. "But I don't like that wind at all."

  By midnight the wind had risen to full gale force. The boat rolled until the lee rail was nearly under, then back to roll nearly as far to windward. The waves built up higher. Then a rogue wave, larger than the others, rolled them until green water poured across the lee rail. Lara was thrown across the deck down to the lee rail. She clung to it as more water poured into the boat and across her. They lay in that trough for a long anxious moment before the boat slowly began to right itself.

  Mr. Harriman hauled the wheel hard to starboard. The boat slowly turned into the wind until it was taking the seas off the starboard bow rather than beam on. Water ran off the stern deck through the scuppers. The boat rolled with the waves, but not so far over to leeward now as it fought to climb the waves rather than roll over to them. Harriman throttled back the power a little, watched the electronic display generated from their satellite position data, and made small adjustments to the throttle and steering. "OK, that ought to do it," he announced. "We're making about five knots northward."

  "Can't we go any faster?" Kip asked.

  "No. Have to conserve power," Harriman said. "Without power we're dead out here."

  Kip thought about that for a minute, then went below. He found one of the bright-banded gourds he thought of as ID cards, and went to the stern and threw it into the sea.

  Nothing happened for a moment. Then he thought he saw lights winking in the dark water below the waves.

  "What was that for?" Lara asked.

  "I don't know, I thought it couldn't hurt," Kip said. He pointed down into the water. "I thought I saw some lights blink earlier. We're a long way north of the Sealab Station, so this has to be a different Starswarm from the one there, and—"

  Something large rose out of the water ahead of them. It flashed electric blue lights, then moved against the bow of the ship.

  "Kip, what the hell is going on?" Lon Harriman shouted.

  "It's one of those eels!" Lara shouted. "It's right up against the starboard bow!"

  "I know that!" Harriman's voice was strained. "It's trying to turn us toward shore!"

  "Maybe you should let it," Kip said.

  "Are you talking to that thing?"

  "No," Kip said. "But I think it has—instructions. Dr. Harriman, I really think we ought to cooperate."

  Harriman was fighting the wheel. "Kip, if I turn toward shore we'll be headed for the rocks. The water's shallower, the waves will be higher—" He looked at his gauges. "But maybe I don't have any choice. It's taking a lot of power to fight that thing."

  "Maybe it wants to charge up the fuel cells," Kip said.

  "How? We'll founder! And I damn well won't open that compartment. If those cells get flooded we're doomed!"

  As if to emphasize the danger there was another gust of wind. The boat was responding to the eel's pressure on the bow and had come nearly broadside on to the weather. A wave rolled them far to port, farther, until Kip thought they would roll right over. Suddenly a black tentacle came over the starboard bow. The boat stopped its roll to the left and began to right itself.

  Harriman spun the wheel so that the boat turned toward shore and took the waves off the starboard quarter. "I hope that damn thing knows what it's doing!" he shouted. "I can't fight it any longer—"

  "It pulled us upright," Lara said. "I don't think you have to fight it." She looked back to the stern where the small gray centaur was huddled against the rail, its feet planted wide on the deck, both arms holding the rail. It looked miserable, but it didn't seem more upset than it had been all afternoon.

  "We'll sure find out," Harriman said. "We're about five kilometers from shore. I'll let this thing lead us in a couple of klicks, but, Kip, we don't dare get closer than that. There are rocks—"

  "With this much onshore wind the sea will be high," Mrs. Harriman said. She shined a flash onto the chart table. "We'll be coming into a thick weed area up ahead."

  "Do Starswarms live in weed areas?" Kip asked.

  "Yes."

  "So the eel is pushing us toward a Starswarm?"

  "Looks that way," Rachel Harriman said. "I don't know what good that will do, but that's what's happening."

  "That wind's coming up more," Lon Harriman said. "Must be sixty knots now." He plugged his earphones into the ship's weather radio receiver. "Seventy knots at Pearly Gates, expected to reach eighty by morning. Full gale."

  A wave broke across the stern, wetting the centaur and leaving a foot of water to run out through the scuppers. "We're not built to take these seas off the stern," Harriman said. "Kip, we're going to have to turn into the wind! Only that damn thing won't let us. Can you talk to it?"

  "Hello. Anyone there?" Silence. "Nothing answers," Kip said.

  Another wave broke against the stern. Water sloshed forward, and some splashed into the cabin. Harriman pointed to the centaur. "Your buddy there is going to freeze," he said. "He gets weak enough, he'll wash overboard. Here. Take the wheel, Rachel." Harriman dove below and came up with a coil of line. He went aft toward the centaur. It looked up at him questioningly.

  Harriman looped one end of the line around a deck stanchion, then passed the end to the centaur. It looked at him, then took the line and passed it around its upper body and looped the line through the handhold above the solid stern rail, effectively lashing itself to the boat. Harriman made his way back to the cabin looking satisfied.

  "That takes care of him," he said. "Unless he freezes to death. Or we all drown when the boat founders."

  They took half a dozen more large waves in the next hour, then, although the wind was no less strong, the seas seemed to subside. It took several minutes before they were sure. "What the hell is happening now?" Harriman demanded.

  Kip went to the starboard rail and stared out at the sea. The sound of the wind made it difficult to hear anything, but something was happening to windward. There was the sound of crashing waves, as if the shore were out to sea rather than a kilometer to their left. Kip peered out into the dark. There seemed to be flashes of light, sea phosphorescence and something else, a continuous line of light and waves a hundred meters away from them.

  "Dr. Harriman!" Kip shouted. "Come look."

  Harriman brought his big night glasses. He studied the flashes to starboard, then handed the glasses to Kip. "You better look for yourself," he said. "I'm not sure I believe this even when I see it."

  "What's happening?" Rachel Harriman called from the wheel.

  "Something out there is acting like a breakwater," Harriman said. "The Starswarm I guess. It's triggering the waves so they break out there a hundred meters from us! That's why we're not getting hit by big waves. Rachel, you can change course to due north and bring up the speed. Kip, Lara, keep a lookout. If the waves come back we'll have to turn into them, but as long as this keeps up we're fine running beam on." He looked at his watch. "If this holds up we'll be off the Pearly Gates harbor entrance a couple of hours after dawn."

  PART NINE: Checkmate

  Friendship is th
e only thing in the world concerning the usefulness of which all mankind are agreed.

  —Cicero

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Gunships

  TWO helicopter gunships swept across the lake an hour after first light. Mike watched them on his computer screen. During the night he'd set up two more cameras to monitor the cave entrance and sheltered them by piling large rocks around them, then led their cables well down into the cave. Now he could safely watch all the approaches to the cave as well as the lake itself.

  One of the helicopters made a sweep across the lake, then set down on the other side, well out of range of hand weapons. Four men piled out and began setting baseplates and tripods.