The Prodigal Sun
Page 5
Roche dropped into the pilot’s couch, made the fundamental adjustments to suit her physique, and placed the valise on her knees. “Out of curiosity, Box, can you fly this thing?”
“Good.” She turned in her seat to see what Cane was up to. He had strapped the Eckandi into the chair in the center of the rear row and lifted the Surin from where she lay on the floor. The girl, limp and even smaller than Roche had guessed, went into the seat on the far side of the cockpit from Roche. “We have a reave on board, Box.”
“If she wakes up and takes me over, you have my permission to fly the ship on your own. I don’t want us stuck in limbo again waiting for her to decide whether or not she should trust us.”
Cane strapped himself into the copilot’s seat next to her, and Roche belatedly realized that she had been talking aloud.
“The briefcase,” he said. “It’s some sort of computer, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She cursed the slip. “It’s going to fly us out of here in—how long, Box?”
“What? Klose gave the order to scuttle the ship?”
Before the Box could reply, Roche had to grasp at the armrests as the frigate’s gravity stabilizers failed completely.
“Shouldn’t we be launching, then?” If the stabilizers had gone, the main energy pile wouldn’t be far behind. And if the Box was right about Klose’s order to free the antimatter reserve—
She was suddenly aware of perspiration beading her forehead.
the voice lilted in her ear.
Roche forced herself to stay calm. “To hell with decorum, Box. Would you just get us out of here?”
“Yes. So?”
“Box!” It was an exclamation of disbelief, nothing more. She had passed beyond panic.
“Just don’t cut it too fine—”
“Brace yourself!” Roche shouted to Cane, remembering that she alone could hear the voice in her ear. “We’re launching!”
Riding a wave of energy as mighty as that on the surface of a small sun, the lander ejected itself into space. Roche closed her eyes against the sudden pressure, and put her fate into the Box’s hands.
3
DBMP Ana Vereine
‘954.10.30 EN
0765
From his coffin in life support, Captain Uri Kajic viewed the assault on the Midnight via his ship’s various external sensors with interest.
The battlefield was complex. At its heart, the angry speck that represented the COE frigate spun like a primitive atom in primordial soup. A ring of Dato fighters harried this defensive position, swooping closer with every pass, supported by the greater might of the three raiders and, further back still, the Marauder itself: the Ana Vereine.
Occasional stray bolts spun free from the intense web of destruction woven by the raiders about the blazing frigate. Some were deflected from the Midnight’s remaining shields; others might have originated from the frigate itself. Although most dissipated harmlessly, the potential remained for an unlucky mishap. The narrow channel through Sciacca’s World’s asteroid field had been mapped in advance and was updated every millisecond by the Marauder’s battle computers—but every new, unplanned explosion altered the orbits of nearby asteroids and increased the risk of collision.
When the Midnight’s antimatter reserve suddenly spilled free of its containment and annihilated the ordinary matter surrounding it, that risk increased tenfold.
“Pull the fighters back!” Kajic ordered, sending the command hurtling down electromagnetic paths to the bridge in the Marauder’s primary nacelle, where his holographic image appeared a moment later. “Prepare for impact!”
His second in command, Atalia Makaev, turned away to relay the order. The expanding bubble of energy reached the Ana Vereine, making it shudder. Kajic’s image flickered slightly with the energy surge, but otherwise remained steadfast. The officers on the bridge gripped their stations as the disturbance washed over them, steadying themselves against the lurching motion. When it eased, and the ship’s g-field restabilized, the normal bustle resumed.
“Report!” Kajic was unable to suppress his impatience. If the ship had been holed, he would have known immediately, but there were thousands of smaller ailments that might slip by unnoticed. The inevitable lag between his orders and their enactment was never as irritating as it was in battle.
“Telemetry reports—” The ship shuddered again as the shields sustained another impact, draining power. Makaev waited for her superior’s image to reconfigure itself properly before continuing. Not that it was necessary—Kajic could receive the information with or without the presence of his hologram—but it was considered polite. “Telemetry reports that the Midnight has broken into seven substantial fragments.” She paused again, adjusting the communication bud in her left ear. “Their trajectories have been noted and extrapolated.”
“Damage to the raiders?” Although Kajic’s primary concern was the Ana Vereine, the information available to him showed an alarming void where moments earlier a dozen fighters had been.
“Paladin has sustained minor damage. Lansquenet reports no incident. Awaiting word from Captain Hage regarding Galloglass.”
Kajic sighed, folding his simulated hands behind his back—using body language consciously, as just another means of communication of the many in his repertoire—and did his best to radiate calm. On the bridge’s main screen, the brilliant fireball that had once been the COEA Midnight boiled away into space, leaving a shower of particles and radioactive dust in its wake. The larger fragments that telemetry had noted were ringed in warning red to aid navigation: bull’s-eyes where perhaps gravestones should have been.
Kajic knew from intelligence reports that every COE frigate carried a crew of four hundred and fifty, each with families scattered throughout the Commonwealth of Empires; some of these people might conceivably have had ties with the Dato Bloc, no matter how distant. The Midnight had also been carrying a score of transportees...
Gone, all of them, in a single blinding explosion as the Midnight’s pile went critical.
Gone also—and more important—was his hope of executing his mission smoothly and without error.
“Captain?”
Atalia Makaev regarded him with a steely expression. It always felt to Kajic as though she were looking into his soul, seeing all of his personal doubts, searching out his weaknesses.
“Yes, Atalia?” he said.
“We have regained contact with Captain Hage. Communications are currently restricted to coherent transmissions. Galloglass’s main communications nexus was overloaded by neutrino flux at the peak of the explosion.”
He nodded. “As would be expected, given the Galloglass’s close proximity to the Midnight. It was ready to dock the moment the frigate’s shields fell.”
“With all due respect, sir,” said Makaev. “The self-destruction of the Midnight should have been anticipated.”
Kajic noted her thin, almost imperceptible smile with some irritation. “It was not a consideration,” he said.
“There was nothing within Captain Klose’s professional or personal profiles to suggest that he would take such drastic action.”
“Nevertheless, Captain,” said Makaev, “he did self-destruct.”
Kajic hesitated, fixing his stare squarely upon her for almost a full minute. He had his doubts about her true role aboard the ship, and how that role related to his own, but this wasn’t the time to let suspicion interfere with duty.
“Bring us back to yellow alert,” he said eventually. “Stabilize our orbits and commence repairs. I want all fighters returned to the Ana Vereine. We must be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What of the target? Has a sighting been confirmed?”
“Debris scanning is under way.”
He returned his attention to the data flowing from the sensors. “Replay the destruct sequence. Bring reserve computers on-line to plot the dispersal pattern and extend scan accordingly. It has to be out there somewhere,” he said. “I want it found.”
“Sir.” Makaev’s left arm snapped a salute; then she turned away.
On the main screen the fiery death of the Midnight returned to haunt him. He could have accessed the data directly, but for the moment he preferred the luxury of viewing the information from a distance, allowing him a more... Human perspective.
The outcome of the battle had indeed taken him by surprise. A protracted engagement had always been a possibility; on that point the tacticians agreed, and Kajic had prepared himself for Dato Bloc losses—but not for this. Not for the complete annihilation of the frigate and all its contents.
detain or disable COEA Midnight
His orders, hardwired into his circuitry, sprang into his thoughts unbidden. With his mission suffering such a spectacular setback, he was not surprised that they had. They were intended as a prompt, to surface with any doubt or uncertainty over the success of his mission.
capture and return Commander Roche and AI JW111101000
They continued—and would keep doing so until his thoughts were once again focused upon his mission, and all reservations concerning its success were dispelled.
priority gold-one
He shrugged aside the mental prompts and concentrated upon the recent battle:
Operationally, the strategy had been a simple one, and had been well executed. With the DBMP Lansquenet, Galloglass, and Paladin in support, the Ana Vereine had translated with extreme precision to the coordinates provided. The Midnight had been exactly where the Espionage Corps had reckoned it would be—too far in-system to make a run for the nearest anchor point, and foolishly vulnerable in Sciacca’s World’s orbital ring. Decelerating, outflanked, and outgunned, the Midnight had, ultimately, no choice other than surrender—or so reason would have had it.
The destruction of an Armada frigate in COE space, by its own hand or not, unplanned or not, had all the makings of a major diplomatic incident. A high cost, even if the mission ultimately proved to be successful—which was still by no means certain.
While the bridge bustled around him, Kajic accessed Klose’s files and restudied the captain’s profile. Klose’s service record, stolen by Espionage Corps spies from COE Armada databanks, was long and unremarkable. CEO of an old frigate, normally given unimportant duties, Klose had been marked as a conservative living off remembered glories, full of hubris, disrespectful of the “new breed” of well-educated military administrators, stubborn and authoritarian—much like the Commonwealth he served. The possibility that Klose had also been unstable was something Kajic had not considered—had no reason to consider. There was nothing in the man’s records to warrant it.
Klose had taken his own orders—to prevent the Dato Bloc from capturing the AI—to the absolute extreme. He had done so knowingly, choosing death before surrender, and had taken his crew with him, regardless of what their individual choices might have been.
Unexpected, yes. But if Kajic had not counted on Proctor Klose’s reaction, then the opposite was also true: Klose could not have anticipated Kajic’s own response to the situation. He had no intention of letting the destruction of the Midnight prevent him from fulfilling his mission. Nor would he permit any interference from the prison planet itself to stop him. Nothing was going to get in the way. Not even his often debilitating fear of failure.
priority gold-one
He forced the fear down, away from the surface. If there was one thing Kajic was, it was focused on the mission.
His orders had been explicit, and ranked in order of priority. These three priorities had been stamped into the fine mesh of bio-implants infiltrating the tissues of his living brain to ensure that there could be no possibility of misunderstanding their significance. No matter how omnipotent he felt at times—with his mind roving the labyrinthine networks of the Ana Vereine—priorities A to C were a constant reminder of his limitations, of just how much he owed the machines in his coffin.
Life. Senses. Command. Duty:
(A) - capture the AI;
(B) - capture Roche;
(C) - perform (A) and (B) with as much stealth and speed as possible.
Focused.
“Atalia?”
His second returned instantly to his side, as though proximity to his image actually meant something. Microphones and cameras scattered throughout the Marauder provided him with the ability to communicate with anyone, anywhere, at any time he wished. She, of all the people on board, should have known that. Had she forgotten this, he wondered, or was it a deliberate action?
But then, he reminded himself, this was one of the many things the experiment was designed to test. Was effective command dependent on genuine physical presence, or could it be simulated? Could a simulation breed resentment, even fear, among those it was supposed to deal with most effectively?
“Sir?” Makaev’s voice was as controlled as it always was.
“Dispatch shuttles to examine the larger pieces in situ.”
She frowned. “If we do that, sir, we will be unable to leave until the shuttles have returned.”
He manufactured a glower and turned its full force on her. “Are you questioning my orders?”
“Of course not, sir, but—”
“Then see that they are carried out immediately.”
Makaev turned away and relayed the order to a subordinate while Kajic watched the Midnight explode an uncounted time and let the anger percolate through him.
He would not allow this temporary setback to get on top of him. He would not allow himself to doubt that he was capable of fulfilling the expectations of those who had designed him. He would not, could not, afford to fail.
It was just a matter of time.
4
COEA Lander M-3
‘954.10.30 EN
0775
Roche slammed back into the couch, the valise crushing her rib cage and forcing the air from her lungs. The roar of the thrusters threatened to split her eardrums. She wanted to turn her head to check on the others, but the acceleration would not allow her.
Thrust increased twofold for an instant, accompanied by a thunderous rattling on the hull. The lander slewed violently, as though flying through atmospheric turbulence.
She forced herself to relax as much as she could, letting her abnormally heavy body roll with the vibrations and trying not to worry about damage to the lander’s hull. It was out of her hands entirely now. All she could do was hope that the Box knew what it was doing.
Roche felt herself lift from the couch, her body pressing momentarily against the sudden tautness of the restraints. The rattling on the hull continued for a while before fading into silence. The occasional tap-tap of smaller thrusters came through the hull, changing the attitude of the lander slightly and making her stomach roll. A few minutes later she was weightless.
Her mind was heavy, however, with the knowledge of the carnage they had left behind.
said the Box.
Roche forced herself to think about the future.
She nodded. It was a sensible strategy, given the situation: with no anchor or slow-jump drive and only a small amount of fuel, their possible destinations were limited to Kanaga Station in orbit or Port Parvati on the surface. Their decision would depend on the Dato and the movements of the Marauder.
Roche loosened her restraint harness and massaged her aching muscles. The Box was right: had the Midnight exploded a minute sooner, they wouldn’t have made it.
“Except find a few answers, perhaps,” she muttered as she swung herself free of the chair, hooking the fingers of one hand around a grip to stabilize herself in the zero-g.
Cane watched unblinkingly from his seat at the copilot’s station as she swiveled in midair to face him.
“We survived,” he said. His natural smile reflected his calm disposition. Their abrupt departure didn’t appear to have affected him in any way. “Whoever it was that spoke to me in my cell was right: you have been able to help me.”