The Ouroboros Wave

by Hayashi, Jyouji

  A three-dimensional projection of the generator hung suspended in front of them. Shiran rotated the projection in different directions, as if she might find the answer there. But all she saw was a generator, nothing more and nothing less.

  “I see two possibilities,” said Mikal. “One would be to use the generator to produce oxygen and methane for rocket fuel. The other would be to remove the antiproton capsule and convert it into some sort of bomb. It fits her MO.”

  “Sorry, but you’re wrong on both counts,” said Samar.

  “You seem to have a problem with every idea I come up with.”

  “I have a problem with ideas that are stupid. I won’t comment on the correlation between the stupidity of the ideas and the person generating them.”

  “Stop acting like children, you two. What are you thinking, Samar?”

  “Suppose Rahmya wants to generate fuel—how would she use it? She’d have to have a missile in place. Look at all the effort she’s already gone to—and that was just to get past our security. If she had some way to smuggle a missile in, why would she need to go to such elaborate lengths just to get fuel?”

  “What about one of our discarded spacecraft?” said Mikal.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Our predecessors on this planet were hard up for anything that could be recycled. If they could’ve, they would’ve recycled the hair on their asses. They wouldn’t leave a spacecraft lying around. Go to Kobe’s Industrial Technology Museum and check it out. We’ve got titanium cooking pots made from the skin of rocket boosters. I ought to know, I’m on their research team.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything. There might still be a spacecraft out there she could refuel, one we don’t know about.”

  “Somewhere on the whole planet, maybe. Not around Rokko. The area’s swarming with surveying teams. And there’s a bigger difficulty. You’d need several days to fuel a spacecraft with this generator.”

  “I see,” said Shiran. “What about the antiproton capsule?”

  “Even harder to imagine. You’d need a specialist to access the capsule. It’s protected by multiple safety devices to prevent tampering. The only way to open it would be to take it to a specialized facility. And even if she had all the access codes, she couldn’t remove the capsule on her own. And even if she did and turned the capsule into some kind of warhead, she’d still need a launch vehicle—which puts us back where we started.”

  Shiran switched to an exploded-view image of the generator. She examined each component, turning casings transparent to see inside. Something about the generator was the key to Rahmya’s plan. But what?

  “I think what we have here is a power generator,” said Samar at length.

  “What makes this one different from others?” said Shiran.

  “Its use of antiprotons and its high output, basically,” said Mikal. “Just what you’d expect.”

  “So she needs electricity,” said Samar. “With this much power you could practically get offworld—if you had a vehicle.”

  “Is that what she’s going to do with it?” said Shiran.

  “Professor, I was just joking.”

  “That’s it—she needs electric power!”

  “Could you please get a grip? What’s she going to do with electric power in the middle of nowhere?”

  “The first settlers on Mars recycled everything. But not these days. Now we do cost/benefit analyses. Like with old launchers. Do you dismantle them or just leave them in place?”

  “Professor, I’m sorry, but there are no launch vehicles in the outback. And she can’t generate fuel overnight—”

  “I’m talking about a launcher, not a launch vehicle. We haven’t used them since the elevator was built. The mass drivers that sent ore into space—they used electricity to launch their payloads.”

  Samar and Mikal were silent. Samar was inputting data to his web. At length he spoke. “I think we have a problem, Professor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know what orbit she’d use, but if the target is Deimos she has a restricted launch window. She’ll also need to launch ahead of Tetsu’s arrival, to give whatever she’s using as a projectile enough time to reach Deimos. The next window is twelve hours before Tetsu arrives.”

  “But that means…”

  “We’ve got two hours max.”

  Minus 1 Hour 30 Minutes

  The great thing about a mass driver is that it has no moving parts. Therefore it can’t malfunction. It took them seven years to build Tsutenkaku, and until 2122, when it was finished, mass drivers like the one I’m looking at were used all the time. Martian gravity is weak compared to Earth’s, the atmosphere is thin, and the high plateau around Mt. Rokko is close to the equator. It’s an ideal location for sending objects into orbit just by accelerating them up a ramp.

  My client put me onto this. I’m in one of the few mines on Mars that was originally developed by Terran investors. The Martians haven’t disclosed much about the technical specifications of their mass drivers. But for this driver the client had all the blueprints, everything. It’s perfect for this mission.

  I owe the Martians one for mapping and securing the access points to the Hydra Ice Caverns. At first I thought it was a bit much, going to all that work just to keep conditions underground nice and stable, but not anymore. Not after my run-in with the methane clathrate. I’d be nervous too if I were them. Still, even though I nearly bought it, the caverns got me here without being spotted. As far as I know there are at least fifty access points.

  Even if the Guardians knew I was down there, they couldn’t know where I might exit. They couldn’t come after me with guns blazing, either. Not in the middle of all that gas.

  What worries me isn’t the Guardians. It took far longer than I’d planned to free the generator and make it to the egress point without getting buried or blown up. Thanks to that, I don’t have much prep time left. And the launch window is very tight.

  This mass driver is underground. The tunnel they excavated keeps it safe from sandstorms and the temperature swings on the surface. They must’ve decided it wouldn’t pay to dismantle it. The galleries leading to the driver are chockablock with equipment that’s probably still usable. It looks like the miners might come back any minute to start working again.

  The superconducting magnets along the driver’s two-hundred-meter length are in good shape. I figured all I had to do was supply power to the capacitors, but now I’m facing another complication. The control system is in relatively decent condition, but it’s seen a lot of use. Some of the sensors for the packet guidance system are nonfunctional. Without these, there’s no way to aim the packets. If I’m going to blow away Ochiai’s ship, I’ve got to solve this problem. Fortunately the sensors aren’t complicated. I can put them back into action with electronic parts from the assortment I picked up in Kobe for exactly this sort of contingency.

  My bigger problem is the generator. Two of its three converters are out of commission, apparently because of the cave-in. They’re not damaged, but a protection circuit kicked in—maybe water got in somewhere it wasn’t supposed to. So now I’m looking at using just one converter.

  In its day, this mass driver could only be used during launch windows that would let it put its packets of ore into a Hohmann orbit, for rendezvous with Deimos. That was back before they changed the moon’s orbit. Outside the launch window, the system’s capacitors could be charged with a small mobile generator. When the timing was right, they discharged the stored energy all at once, firing packets of ore into space one after another from a huge stack, like a machine gun.

  The plan was to quickly charge the system and fire a barrage of projectiles. Now I’m wondering if that’s possible. I hurry to connect the generator. The mission will fail if I can’t juice up the capacitors in time. But if everything goes according to spec, Ochiai’s ship will be ripped to pieces, and it will be impossible to prove it was my handiwork.

  I log on to AADD Net using Go
ng-ru Yang’s password. I want to make sure Ochiai hasn’t changed his schedule. Everything’s nominal. The target is on course and on time. AADD takes schedules seriously. They’re masters at keeping their space traffic moving like clockwork.

  The attack principle is simple. At a given moment, object A and object B try to occupy the same space simultaneously, with the results one would expect. That’s really all there is to it. I was worried about getting the timing right, but things are looking good. The spacecraft carrying Chairman Ochiai will arrive with the precision that marks everything AADD does. And that’s what’s going to get him killed.

  Minus 0 Hours 10 Minutes

  “This mass driver the Terrans built is fairly small and simple. It looks like they decided to abandon it rather than spend the money to dismantle it. We haven’t touched it, since it’s not one of ours.”

  The airship flew at maximum speed above the Martian surface. Most of the mass drivers on Mars had been dismantled after the completion of the orbital elevator. Now there were only a few left. Of these, only one offered a high probability of being part of Rahmya’s plan, but it wasn’t clear whether a team could reach the site before the launch window opened.

  All Guardian units were on alert. Units in transit to the camp of the murdered surveying team had been redirected to the mass driver, but they were certain to arrive even later than Shiran. Everything depended on whether Shiran and the team she had assembled at short notice could locate Rahmya in time.

  “Professor, are you sure this mass driver is really usable for some sort of attack?” Mikal was paging through the driver’s technical specifications, forwarded by the Industrial Technology Museum. “Deimos was repositioned as a counterweight for the elevator. It’s in a different orbit now. The elevator is even visible from here. No matter how fast a projectile leaves this mass driver, the launch angle is low. The apogee motor on each packet is tiny. It should be possible to reach 22,000 kilometers with one of these containers, but given the launch point, hitting Deimos is impossible. I think we’re reading this wrong.”

  “You said the velocity doesn’t matter. Are you sure about that?”

  “What do you mean, Professor?”

  “Don’t forget, Mars is revolving. That added kick will boost the packet to almost five klicks per second.”

  “But by the time it reaches 22,000 kilometers, it will actually be ahead of Tsutenkaku. How’s the packet going to hit it?”

  “By climbing to 30,000 kilometers. Then it uses its motor to descend to 22,000 kilometers. Fourteen hours after launch the packet would strike Deimos.”

  “Fourteen hours? That’s a pretty leisurely attack profile.”

  “It would give Rahmya more than enough time to establish an alibi or simply disappear.” Shiran sent the projected ballistic track to Mikal’s web. The packet—a simple cargo container with a small booster—could rise smoothly to an altitude of 30,000 kilometers, then kick into a parabolic transfer orbit and descend to 22,000 kilometers. In effect, the packet could swoop in from above and behind Deimos as the satellite passed below.

  “All right. All we have to do is contact Tetsu and tell him not to land until we can solve this.”

  “He won’t do it, Mikal. The deceleration sequence has already started. I talked to him. He’s not going to change his schedule. He’s arriving on time, as planned.”

  “Even with someone trying to kill him?”

  “Precisely because someone is trying to kill him. If the threat is a terrorist attack, he won’t change his schedule.” Shiran was well aware of Ochiai’s views on this issue. This was not a matter of changing a single spacecraft’s schedule. It was a political principle.

  How should AADD deal with terrorists? Ochiai’s actions spoke for the collective. There would be no compromise with terrorism or its hidden backers. Terrorism would have no effect on AADD’s resolve to reach its goals. As the head of AADD’s steering committee, Ochiai was the embodiment of that resolve.

  “The greater the danger, the less room he has to back down,” said Mikal. “He’s carrying the burden for us all.”

  “That’s why he’s head of the steering committee.” Shiran examined the specifications, hoping to find some way to block a launch from outside the facility. It didn’t take her long to realize that the situation was worse than she’d imagined. “Mikal, if we don’t stop her, she could devastate Deimos. This driver fires packets from a top-loading magazine. If I were Rahmya, I’d fire as many packets as I could to cover my bet. She could wipe out most of Deimos Station.”

  “How much longer till the window opens?” said Mikal.

  “Less than ten minutes.”

  The Guardians put on their bulky assault suits and began to check weapons. Most of these Guardians weren’t part of Shiran’s team, but rather belonged to a specialized assault group. Shiran had overall operational control, but these men and women were responsible for tactical decision-making on the ground. Their target had already killed four people—five including the Terran victim.

  Shiran also suited up. She hadn’t worn one of these units in a long time. They looked unwieldy but were manufactured from composite materials and were surprisingly light. The suits had advanced servo joint assist, enabling enhanced finger dexterity inside the suit’s gloves, and used a spaced armor system. This made them appear imposing, if not frightening—an intended psychological effect reinforced by an all-black finish.

  “I haven’t worn one of these units in a while,” said Shiran to the squad leader.

  “Bet it won’t be the last time, though.”

  “I’m afraid you’re probably right.”

  The squad members helped each other through their final suit checks. Their training focused on counterterrorism operations, and it was rare for them to actually be deployed. Most would-be terrorists were detained the moment they set foot on Deimos. Some members of this squad were undoubtedly on their first deployment. Shiran could sense it—even with their evil-looking suits on, some of them were visibly ill at ease.

  Seeing that Shiran was unarmed the squad leader offered her a pistol. She waved it away. “Are you sure, Professor?” he asked.

  “If you need me to carry a gun, I think the Guardians are finished.”

  “Then let’s complete your thruster check.”

  The armored suits were equipped with onboard thrusters—good for only three minutes of flight, but reliable, powerful, highly maneuverable, and fueled by a cocktail of sixty nitrogen compounds.

  “Professor, we’re real close!” shouted Mikal.

  “Maybe we’re even in time. I need a visual.” In seconds, Shiran’s retinal feed showed her the opening in the surface that marked the egress point for the packets. The image must have been enhanced—despite the distance it was unnaturally sharp and clear. Most of the mine structures had been buried by sandstorms, but it was clear that something man-made was out there. Shiran switched to infrared view.

  “Hello…”

  A distinct IR plume was visible around the tunnel entrance, proof that something inside was generating large amounts of heat. “Looks like someone’s in the kitchen.”

  Minus 0 Hours 1 Minute

  Other than the guidance sensors, everything’s finally going the way I planned. And the guidance sensors are fixed. I was worried about the mass driver equipment, but all in all it’s in better shape than I’d thought. The launch packets were stacked way back in the galleries behind the driver, good to go with hardly any attention from me. All I had to do was top off the fuel tanks.

  And now what’s left is just a little heavy lifting while the capacitors charge. The crane on the land cruiser works fine for loading the packets into the magazine. I supply a little elbow grease, wait patiently, and let leverage do most of the work. I don’t have to use my head. I’d really rather be loading with the big crane they have here, but with two-thirds of my generator capacity down that’s a luxury I can’t afford. The driver’s guidance system is drawing power from the cruiser while th
e generator powers the capacitors. I don’t hear much noise from the equipment, but I can feel the ground vibrating. I must be putting out a big heat signature right about now.

  I’ve got twenty packets to work with. With that many I could send a huge amount of mass into orbit, but like it or not I’m going to have to launch them empty. I’d love to load them up with mine slag, but there’s no time. Anyway, they’ll travel faster empty. Even then, each one weighs about a ton.

  Given the relative speed difference, I’m not going to hit Deimos with the packets. Not exactly. It’s more like Deimos is going to collide with them. The velocity differential will be pretty huge, based on the packets’ kinetic vector. It’s like the old battleships of the twentieth century—the packets are like shells from the battleships’ main battery. Twenty hits like that and Deimos Station will probably be snuffed out along with Chairman Ochiai.

  Martian gravity is only about a third of Earth’s, but after loading twenty packets into the magazine I’m completely exhausted. Still, there’s no time to rest. The only thing finished is the preparation.

  I’m already three minutes into the launch window when the guidance console’s lights turn green straight across. The capacitors are juiced up and ready to go. I hurry to switch the guidance panel’s power supply over to the generator. I bring the orbital guidance sensors from idle mode to full readiness. Optical sensors, ballistic homing radar—all systems nominal.

  That’s when I see it. A blip on the homing radar. I feverishly check the image data on my heads-up.

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.”

  A Guardian airship—and it’s coming right down my throat. I didn’t activate the radar earlier because I wanted to conserve power. Smooth move, Rahmya. I don’t even need image data—the fuckers are close enough to see with the naked eye.

  How did they find me? I haven’t made a single mistake. But there they are. Looks like they’re going to try and stop me from launching the packets. The airship is coming straight in, right along the launch trajectory. Yes! I activate homing mode and the radar starts scanning. There’s only one airship.