Homefall

by Chris Bunch

  A secondary screen that had been added before Big Bertha left Cumbre started scrolling:

  JANE'S ID positive… three ships positive ID… Confederation D/az-class… the borderline obsolescence at time of final Confederation revision this file…

  Dill ignored the weapons and crew entry.

  Sumbeech, sumbeech, we're home, we're home, he thought gleefully, ignoring the sarcastic part of his mind that asked what and where the hell home was, anyway.

  He started to ID himself correctly, stopped, remembering belatedly that anyone could say he was Confederation.

  "This is Dill" he said. "Understood your last, that we are in Confederation space. Extreme approval on this side."

  Another, larger ship blinked into existence.

  The ever-watchful Jane's told him it was a completely obsolete light cruiser, Daant-class, probably Quiroga.

  "This is Fleet Commander von Hayn," was the com. "We do not recognize your ship class at all for leading two ships. No linkage shown to Confederation. Third ship identified as standard-manufacture planetary patrol craft. Explain. Over."

  "This is the DM," Ben said. "My ship is locally built, and you have correctly ID'd the patrol ship. Over."

  "Neither of you look long-range capable," the grating voice said. "Suspect you are outrunners of larger ships. Give system of origin at once."

  "Uh… Erwhon," Dill said, wishing to hell Garvin was here, or maybe Froude. "And we do have other ships in hyperspace, waiting assessment of the situation."

  "That system you named is unknown to us."

  "We were just being colonized when we fell out of contact with the Confederation. I guess nobody sent the proper bulletins around. What happened to our Empire, anyway?" Dill couldn't hold back the question.

  There was a long time of dead air.

  "This is Fleet Commander von Hayn," the voice came reluctantly. "We are not in contact with the Homeworlds, but have sustained order through our own devices for some years, maintaining peace and the rule of law and order."

  "As have we," Dill said. "And now we're trying to reestablish contact."

  Again, a long silence, and Dill was about to rebroadcast.

  "We have communicated with our superiors," von Hayn's voice came. "Permission to enter the Carroll system is denied. Be advised a full launch of our fleet has been made, and any other ships appearing in normal space will be treated as enemy and fire will be opened on them immediately.

  "Again, you are refused entry. Leave this system at once, or face immediate attack."

  "You paranoid old poop," Dill muttered to himself, not knowing age or sex of the fleet commander, and opened his mike.

  "Von Hayn, this is the Dill. We come in peace, I say again, meaning no harm, but wishing only supplies… and you rotten bug diddler!"

  The Quiroga had just launched a pair of missiles at the aksai.

  Ben wanted desperately to make a counterstrike, but remembered his orders and fled back into hyper-space, even as the patrol ship disappeared with him.

  He locked aboard Big Bertha, and steamed for the bridge.

  Garvin, Froude, and Njangu were waiting.

  "Thor with an anvil up his ass, but those bastards were unfriendly," he snapped.

  "We know," Froude said. "Remember, we were monitoring all 'casts."

  "Well what the hell are we going to do?" Dill asked.

  "We're going to make another jump, far, far away from here" Garvin said. "Listen. Here's a couple of selections the patrol boat's com picked up. Both came from the homeworld."

  He touched a key.

  A harsh voice grated:

  "Meal hours for all Zed-, Extang-, and Hald-class citizens have been changed by point-one-five tics. Be advised the grace period for change will be four shifts, then penalties may be assessed. Further—"

  Static, then a woman's voice said:

  "Due to compliance with voluntary work output, issuance of rapture tabs are authorized for the following districts: Alf, Mass—"

  "Oy yoy," Ben Dill said. "They tells you when you can eat, get your head ruined. How much you want to bet they let you know when it's 'kay to screw?"

  "I don't think we need to trouble ourselves with these people," Froude said. "At least, not until we're prepared to come back in force and discuss this system of peace, law, and order."

  The three aksai pilots sat in their ready room, waiting for either mess call or another alert.

  "I'm starting to think," Ben Dill mused, "this universe might not be that friendly a place."

  "When was it ever?" Boursier asked. "Or weren't you paying attention in Astronomy One?"

  "I don't mean black holes and wormholes and ghosties and goblins and that," Dill said. "I'm talking about people.

  "Not to mention we ain't found squat beside ruination."

  "Do not despair," Alikhan said. "For I remember the tale of a great Musth warrior who was once lost in a trackless forest. But he kept on looking, trying different trails, different signals. His belief was 'seek a thousand tracks, and one of them will lead to home."

  Dill looked at the alien thoughtfully.

  "Be damned. I didn't think you Musth ever said anything reassuring."

  "Neither did I," Boursier said. "How long did it take this warrior to reach his home?"

  "He never made it," Alikhan said. "They found those words scratched on the outside of a tree, next to which he had starved."

  Chapter 5

  Salamonsky

  "Take it in closer, Ben," Garvin said, his voice showing no emotion.

  "Yessir," Dill said, and dived into Salamonsky's atmosphere.

  Garvin turned away from the projection.

  "What sort of lousy bastard would attack a circus world?" he asked no one in particular. "We never did anything to anyone… gave them something to laugh at, something to wonder about, sent home with stars in their eyes and a smile on their lips."

  The enlisted woman on one of the radars turned. "You ever hear of some people called Jews, sir?"

  Garvin looked at her, then away.

  Dill was coming in fast a thousand kilometers below—even at his height above land, there was perceptible ground rush.

  "Captain Liskeard," Garvin said, "bring it in-atmos-phere. We'll have a look, maybe get some idea of who the bad guys could have been. Put two patrol boats out now for top cover."

  "Sir."

  "As soon as we're below the stratosphere, launch the other aksai and the patrol boat. Keep them sweeping, looking for trouble."

  Njangu came up to him.

  "You got a crawly feeling?"

  "Not necessarily," Garvin said. "I'm probably just hoping there's something to shoot at, no more."

  Dill flared the aksai two hundred meters above the landing field he'd targeted. Small carpet bombs had knocked the tower askew and set fire to hangars and admin buildings. Then strafers must have come in to finish the job. There were remnants of ships scattered around the field, some that would have been modern, others beyond-belief rust buckets that transported small dog-and-pony acts or even sideshows around the region. All of them had been anodized in the most garish colors that were now just beginning to flake.

  "I'd guess," Njangu said, "whoever hit them came in less than an E-year ago. There's still cables dangling, looks like some rope that's not rotted hanging from that drive stand, and that old hovercraft cushion's still inflated."

  The image on-screen changed as Dill's aksai banked over the port's small city. It sprawled for some kilometers, and was mostly separate houses of wildly varying styles and sizes.

  "I wonder," Garvin said absently, "if any of those houses belonged to any little people. I remember, when I was a kid, going to one family, and everything was built to scale, and they were smaller than I was, so for the first time I felt like a giant.

  "All of them but their daughter," he went on. "She was, oh, maybe thirteen, and as pretty as I'd ever seen. I fell in love with her… but of course she didn't know nine-year-olds existed."


  The city's business center was a cratered ruin.

  "I hope they fought back," Garvin said. "It would've been—"

  The watch communications officer came into the bridge.

  "Sir. We're getting a transmission, in Common, on a Confederation guard channel. Shall I pipe it through?"

  "Now," Garvin ordered. "And get DF finding out where it's coming from."

  The transmission quality was wavery, and the woman's voice was flat, tired, as if she'd done the 'cast a thousand thousand times:

  "Unknown ship… our detectors picked up a disturbance entering atmosphere… unknown ship… we are refugees in hiding after our world was looted… we're only a handful of survivors… oh Allah, be a ship, not another damned meteorite. Please."

  The emotion stopped, and once more the woman said her plea.

  Garvin was reaching for the mike, when Njangu caught his arm.

  "Let her run on for a minute. It won't hurt."

  "Why?"

  "It might not be a bad idea… once we find out where she's 'casting from, to drop a drone down before Big Bertha wallows over there, don't you think? Since I'm the only me I've got, I'd like to take precautions."

  Garvin's lip thinned, then he caught himself.

  "You're right. Sorry."

  Njangu ordered one of the patrol ships to launch a drone in-atmosphere. Moments later, the direction finders had a location for the plea for help.

  "Nap of the earth," Njangu ordered the drone's pilot on the patrol ship. "I want a realtime normal-vision transmit, and metal detection patched to me."

  "Sir."

  A tech moved a screen down, and it lit up, showing the drone's point of view, approaching the ground.

  Njangu told Dill what was going on, ordered him and the other ships to low altitudes.

  The drone was flashing over wooded hills, then a lake, a small valley, then more woods.

  "That was where she DF'ed from. Nothing to see," Liskeard said. "The poor scared bastards must be hiding."

  "Look at that display, sir," a technician said.

  Garvin looked as well… and saw high-zigging lines.

  "Nothing but brushes and woodses down there," Njangu said. "And a lot of hidden metal. Like ships under camou nets maybe?"

  "Shit!" somebody in the control room swore as ragged black smoke dotted the sky on-screen.

  "Most poor scared bastards don't have antiaircraft guns… or use 'em on rescuers," Liskeard said wryly.

  "No," Garvin said. "No, they don't. Commo, give me an all-channels."

  "Sir. You're on."

  "All Bertha elements. Target Acquisition on our main screen. Indicators show hidden ships… and we got fire. Suspect cannon, not missiles. Nana elements, to ten thousand meters, stand off two kilometers. Goddard launch on command.

  "Aksai, stay clear until we open things up a little, then we'll send you… cancel that for the moment."

  Garvin hadn't needed the technician's warning. He'd seen a ship lift through trees below.

  "Nana Flight… take him out."

  "Sir," Alt Rad Draf said. "Two, do you have that ship?"

  "Affirm…"

  "I'm firing. Two shadows… on command… FIRE!"

  The meter-long Shadow antiship missiles spat from their pods.

  "We have a counterlaunch and countermeasures in effect," Draf's ECM officer reported. "Divert one… two… hit! Hit!"

  The seething ball of flame that'd been a small starship spun back toward the ground.

  "Nanas… proceed with Goddard launch!" Garvin ordered.

  "On my command," Draf said, still calm-voiced. "All elements… target from flagship… one Goddard per Nana… FIRE!"

  The Goddards were heavy shipkillers, six meters long, sixty centimeters in diameter, with a five hundred-km range. They drove toward the valley at full speed.

  AA guns on the ground yammered up, but struck wide.

  All four targeted within fifteen meters of each other, and the ground roiled, bucked, and net covering guns and two more ships on the ground burst into flames. Secondary explosions sent flame waves boiling into the air.

  "Aksai," Garvin said, "if there's anything left to kill… go on in."

  The fighting ships dived down, swept the small valley. Boursier's chainguns yammered once, again.

  "Half a dozen men… with guns," she reported. "No more."

  "That's it," Garvin said. "All Bertha elements… recover."

  He looked again at the screen showing the destroyed valley, then at Njangu.

  "Hope none of the people they captured were down there," Yoshitaro said.

  Garvin flushed.

  "Goddammit, if they were… they were leading us into a trap!"

  "True," Njangu said. "Sorry. Boss."

  Garvin's face returned to normal.

  "No. My turn for the apology. This one got to me a little."

  "Forget it," Njangu said. "I suppose you've got another place to look for your elephants."

  "I do. Two more, if it comes to that," Garvin said. "But number three is halfway to hell and gone."

  "Then… unless you want to land, and sift some ashes trying to figure out where those raiders came from, and do a few paybacks… I guess we should depart this fair clime."

  "Yeh," Garvin said heavily. "There's nothing for us… or anyone else… here."

  Two of the next seven nav points were in inhabited systems. Scouting aksai reported those worlds were settled, primarily agricultural and, from detected emissions, were obviously out of contact with the Confederation, slowly working their way back down the energy ladder.

  Boursier reported, in rather shocked tones, the second system was even using some nuclear power.

  "Obviously," Njangu said, "there's no point in stopping for help when somebody's worse off than we are."

  "Nope," Garvin agreed. "Besides, the next jump will be Grimaldi, full of fun, laughter, and life.

  "I bleeding well hope."

  Chapter 6

  Langnes 4567/Grimaldi

  "This is Grimaldi Control," a woman said. "Link to Channel five-five-four-point-eight-seven… you are cleared to land. You will descend vertically from present position, then take course Nan Eleven, as indicated on your Standard Instrument Screen for approximately twenty-two, that is two-two, kilometers. We have clear weather, so you should have visual contact with Joey Field at that point. Use Beam Eleven Teng to guide you to your landing spot."

  The voice paused, then said: "Be advised we are a peaceful world, and are welcoming you.

  "If, however, you have other intentions, also be advised you are being tracked by various weapons systems we do not want to use. Over."

  "This is Big Bertha" Liskeard said into a mike. "We are just what we claim to be… understand Course Nan Eleven for two-two kilometers, use standard Beam Eleven Teng and visual flight regulations to land on field. Monitoring Channel five-five-four-point-eight-seven. Over."

  "Assuming you know what the name of your ship means," the voice said, "welcome home. Grimaldi Control, clear."

  Njangu glanced at Garvin, swore that the other man had tears in his eyes. He wondered what would be a home to him, one day, wondered not for the first time if there was one. Sure as hell not the corrupt sewer of Ross 248 that he'd been born on.

  "Sir," Liskeard said, "we're bringing it in. Do you want to do the benediction?"

  Garvin jolted back to the bridge of the ship.

  "Yeh. Yeh, sorry." He took a microphone.

  "This is Gaffer Jaansma." He'd decided to start using the title before they entered the Grimaldi system, figuring it was time to get the troops used to it.

  "From here on out, all of you who aren't civilians are now. For the love of Harriet's Crucifixion, don't go around in step or counting cadence.

  "You've all been briefed on who we are… more or less amateur circus buffs who've fallen into money, and are trying to give peace a chance by making people happy and laughing, and maybe are curious about whatever happene
d to the Confederation.

  "You don't have to look moronic when you say that. The people we'll encounter will already think you're a skid short of an even landing for looking for what is obviously big trouble.

  "From here on out, things should get interesting."

  He keyed the mike off and looked at Njangu, grinning broadly.

  "Damn, but this is gonna be fun."

  Garvin might have been awash in sentiment, but that didn't make him altogether a fool.' The two aksai followed within Big Bertha's radar shadow until the behemoth landed, then orbited closely overhead. The Nana boats were ready for an instant launch, and certain unobtrusive compartments, normally kept sealed, were now open and their 35mm chainguns, firing depleted uranium rounds at 6000rpm, and the smallish one meter long Shrikes, which could be launched at anything and guided by anyone, were ready.

  But nothing warlike happened, and so Garvin, and an assemblage of his more impressive people, from

  Ben Dill to Njangu to Monique Lir went down the wide gangway after the lock opened.

  Waiting were a dozen or more lifters, some circus-colored, others nondescript, two loudly claiming the holo stations they had been dispatched by.

  About forty men and women waited, most as excited as Garvin. They were also somewhat unusual in appearance, Lir noticed. Three had elaborate tattoos showing on their bare arms, one was almost as big as Ben Dill, another woman had a rather remarkable beard, and two, including one journoh with a holo recorder, were midgets.

  One woman, distinguished-looking, very long-haired, wearing tanned, fringed leathers, came forward.

  "We welcome Big Bertha" she said formally. "I hope you will find what you're seeking here on Gri-maldi. I am Agar-Robertes, and people have given me the title of Gaffer, one of several on this world. That's an ancient term that means—"

  "I know what it means," Garvin said. "I'm Gaffer Jaansma."

  The woman lifted her eyebrows.

  "Of the Jaansmas?"

  "I am Garvin," Garvin said. "My mother was Clyte, my father Frahnk, my uncle Hahrl. Before that—"

  "Stop," the woman said. "You've been kicking sawdust longer than any of us."

  Garvin inclined his head.

  "Son of a bitch," Njangu managed sotto voce to Dill. "The bastard's for real about this circus stuff!"