“And the other planets?” Doi asked coolly. She was rallying well after the loss of the starships.
“Our electronic warfare strategy is proving effective,” the SI said. “It is certainly slowing down the rate of advance once the aliens reach the planetary surface. They are having to physically eliminate cybersphere nodes one at a time as they expand outward. However, the latest landings give cause for concern.”
“In what way?” Wilson asked.
“We have been using stealthed sensors to scrutinize the cargo they are currently unloading on several worlds. It appears to be gateway machinery, which will allow them to anchor their wormholes on the planet surface.”
“If they deliver direct to the planet, we’ll never be able to stop their incursion,” Nigel said.
“Realistically, we’re never going to anyway,” Wilson said. “Not to a degree that we take them back for ourselves. Look at the state of the environment on the assaulted worlds.”
“You’re writing them off?” Doi asked.
“Basically, yes,” Wilson said.
“They’ll crucify us,” she said. “The Senate will fling every one of us out of office, and probably into jail.”
Wilson’s virtual vision printed: DON’T SHE’S NOT WORTH IT. The text’s origin code identified Anna as the sender. “We didn’t know it was going to be this bad,” he said mildly.
“Yes we did,” Dimitri said.
Wilson turned to the translucent planet representations. The cyberspheres of each of them were illustrated by livid golden threads. There were black areas surrounding each of the Prime landing zones, a darkness that was slowly eating farther and farther into the gold. “We’ve nothing else left to hit them with,” Wilson said. “All we can do is fall back and regroup.” He took the first of a series of deep breaths; but not even the rush of oxygen could hold back the black weariness. There hadn’t been a war in human history where so much had been lost in so little time. And I’m the one in charge. Dimitri is right, we did know, we just didn’t want to admit it.
Captain Jean Douvoir heard the fans whirring efficiently behind the grilles as they sucked acrid smoke from the Desperado’s bridge. The warship had been lucky; that last directed energy burst had almost penetrated the hull field, as it was there had been some localized breaches that had played hell with the power circuitry. The stabilizers had done their best, but not even superconductors could handle surges induced by megaton nuclear blasts. With their defenses dangerously weakened, he’d slammed the Desperado into hyperspace to escape the Prime projectiles hurtling toward them.
“Merde,” he grunted as they emerged outside the Anshun system’s cometry halo. His virtual vision showed him the ship’s electronic systems rebuilding themselves. There was very little redundancy left now. They’d never survive another sustained attack. And that’s what would happen if they went back. There was no end to the Prime ships and projectiles.
The communications icons representing the other four starships had red “invalid” signs flashing over them.
“What’s the status back there?” he asked Don Lantra, who was operating the sensor suite.
Don gave him a weary look. “Just lost track of the Dauntless. That’s all of them, boss.”
Jean wanted to punch his fist into the console, a useless and difficult gesture in freefall. He knew most of the crews. Back on the High Angel they’d hung out together, one big fraternity living in each other’s lives. Now the only way he’d see them again would be after their re-life procedures. Not even that softened the blow. It would take years. Assuming the Commonwealth lasted that long.
His virtual vision flashed up a communications icon from Admiral Kime. “What’s your status, Jean?” Wilson asked.
“Getting things stable out here. We can take another pass at them soon.”
“No. Get back to High Angel.”
“We’ve still got seven missiles left.”
“Jean, another fifty ships have come through already. You did a superb job, you all did, but the evacuation’s almost complete.”
“You’re abandoning Anshun?”
“We have to. We’re evacuating all the assaulted worlds.”
“No. All of them? But we have to do something. They cannot be allowed a victory. Today it is twenty-three worlds, if we let them get away with that it will be a hundred tomorrow. We have to fight back.”
“We have been fighting, Jean, we’ve had our victories. You and the other starships bought Anshun valuable time. But you’re the only warship left, so fly back to base and we’ll refit you to fight another day.”
“Victories? I don’t think so. Dimitri was right, we had to get through the wormholes and block them from the other side.”
“You know we couldn’t do that; they’re too heavily defended. We’ll find the star they’re using as a staging post, Jean. We’ll hit them there. You’ll be commanding the whole task force.”
“And how long will it take to build that many ships, Admiral?”
“As long as it takes. Now head back to base.”
“Yes, sir.”
Douvoir ordered the plyplastic straps on his acceleration couch to ease off, and clenched his stomach muscles, forcing himself up into a sitting position. The rest of the bridge crew were all looking at him. “I am not prepared to accept defeat today,” he told them. “My secure memory store was updated before we left High Angel, and I will join our comrades in re-life. I am flying this ship back to Anshun, where it will live up to its name. If anyone wishes to leave now, then please use the escape pods, the navy will pick you up.”
All he saw were smiles and a few grim expressions. Nobody took up his offer to leave.
“Very well, gentlemen and ladies, it has been my pleasure and honor to serve with you. God willing we will serve together again after re-life. For now, we must reprogram the hyperdrive. There are a great many safety limiters to be removed.”
The clouds were finally lifting as the day ended, allowing a rosy twilight to infiltrate the Highmarsh. From his position, hunched down behind a clump of boulders thirty meters up the side of the Turquino Valley, Mark Vernon watched the land in front of him soak up the light, acquiring a faint ginger shading. He couldn’t quite see down the Ulon Valley from here, for which he was grateful. Actually being able to see his home as they waited to leave would have been unbearable.
“Not long now, baby,” Liz said.
He smiled over at her, amazed as always how she always knew his mood. She was taking a break, sitting with her back to the boulders, a thick fleece pulled around her shoulders against the chill air that the Dau’sings channeled along the Turquino.
“Guess not.” He could see the end of the queue below him, barely a thousand people left, shuffling along the side of the little stream with its icy water. Even the wormhole was visible from this vantage point, a small dark gray circle that was starting to be absorbed by the deep shadows that cloaked the base of the valley. The MG was parked to one side of it, the first of several vehicles that had been abandoned along the meager track. It wasn’t far away. Time and again in his mind, Mark had gone over how long it would take him to run down the rugged slope to get there. Not that running would be much use. Everyone else had to get through first. Even now, with only able-bodied adults left, they still seemed to be taking their own sweet time. Didn’t they realize the urgency?
“They’ve reached the Highmarsh,” Mellanie said.
Mark gave the handheld array a vexed glance. How the hell does she know that? Then the display on the array’s screen showed him a node at the far end of the Highmarsh go off-line. Oh.
Liz picked up her oversize alien weapon and moved to crouch beside Mark. “Twenty minutes,” she said, giving the line of people a quick glance. “That’s all. Maybe less.”
“Maybe.” He thought the queue was starting to speed up—a little. The screen on the handheld array showed another two nodes had dropped out along the Highmarsh. There was a faint sound that could have been
an explosion.
“Are we all ready?” Simon asked. He was on the opposite side of the valley to Mark, with another of the big alien weapons. It hadn’t taken Mark long to rig the triggers so they could be used by human hands; they had a strange double button arrangement, which had to be pressed in a sequence that was difficult for fingers. One of them shot explosive micro-missiles, while the remaining three were very powerful beam weapons.
“Guess so,” Mark muttered sulkily.
Liz brought the handheld array up to her mouth. “Standing by.”
“Remember, as soon as you’ve fired the weapons, fall back.”
She rolled her eyes at Mark, grinning. “Yeah, we’ll remember that.”
Mark leaned forward and kissed her.
“I don’t think we’ve got time,” she said pertly.
“Just in case,” he said, almost sheepishly. “I want you to know in case anything happens, I do love you.”
“Oh, baby.” She kissed him. “When we get through that wormhole, your pants are coming straight off, mister.”
He grinned. Another node on the Highmarsh had vanished. By his reckoning that was the one near the Marly homestead. Maybe a kilometer from the entrance to the Turquino. “Are we going to come back here? To live, I mean?”
“I don’t know, baby. Simon thinks we will.”
“Do you want to, if we can?”
“Of course I do. I’ve had the best time of my lives here. We’re going to go on living like this.”
A further three nodes went down.
“Here they are,” Mark grunted.
After two hours spent modifying various systems, the Desperado slipped back into hyperspace. At top speed they were two minutes away from Anshun. Jean Douvoir was totally absorbed by the hysradar display, which showed him the wormholes encircling the planet as diamond-bright specks. He picked one, and aligned the warship directly on it.
When they were thirty seconds’ flight time away from the wormhole, he ordered the ship’s RI to formulate their breakout point. Normally, the emergence from hyperspace was safeguarded by the RI’s programming, restricting the opening’s relative velocity. If they were coming out into a planetary orbit, the opening’s trajectory would match the local escape velocity, ensuring a safe entrance to real space. With the limiters removed, Jean gave the opening a velocity of point two light speed.
Cherenkov radiation flooded out of the fracture in spacetime five hundred kilometers from the Prime wormhole. The Desperado flashed out from the center of the violet radiance, traveling at one-fifth the speed of light as it struck the force field that capped the wormhole. Detonation was instantaneous, converting a high percentage of its mass directly into energy in the form of ultra-hard radiation that punctured the force field as if it were nothing more than a bubble of brittle antique glass. The Prime wormhole was left open to the full power of the new and temporary sun that had risen above Anshun.
One of the cylindrical alien flyers shot across the end of the Turquino Valley. Mark tried to chase it with the muzzle of his weapon, but it zipped behind the steep slope on the other side before he was anywhere near. A long rumble of roiling air reverberated in from the Highmarsh.
Two more flyers appeared, traveling a lot slower than the first. Mark managed to get one centered in his sights, and pressed the trigger. The flyer’s force field burned in hazy turquoise light, with small slivers of static snapping repeatedly into the ground. Liz fired her beam gun, intensifying the corona. Over on the other side of the valley, Simon fired the projectile weapon. A plume of blue fire squirted horizontally from the endangered force field, sending glowing fireballs dripping around the shaking craft. It banked abruptly and swept away out of the line of sight. Its partner raced away.
“Move!” Mark shouted.
He was racing away from the boulders, crouched low, the weapon heavy in his hands. Fifty meters ahead and slightly downslope was another clump of boulders. With his feet thudding into the spongy boltgrass, his heart hammering, and Liz whooping manically beside him, he felt himself smile stupidly. It was almost as if he was enjoying himself.
They were five meters from cover when a huge blast demolished the boulders they’d been using. He flung himself flat, his mood flipping instantly to naked fear. “Are you all right?” he yelled as the flyer’s roaring wake shook the air.
Liz raised her head. “Fuck! Yeah, baby. Come on, move it.” Chunks of hot stone and smoking earth were pattering down all around them. A wide circle of boltgrass was on fire behind, pushing out a thick, foul-smelling smoke.
He half crawled, half scrambled around the next set of boulders, and lay there panting heavily as his legs trembled. When he risked a glance backward he saw a flyer hovering motionlessly at the entrance of the valley. He knew he should be taking another shot at it, but just couldn’t bring himself to line the weapon up. As he was watching, the flyer fired at a second craft that was curving around the first mountain. It exploded with incredible violence, lighting up the whole of the Turquino Valley as its wreckage whirled out of the air.
“What…”
“Mellanie,” Liz declared. “She’s taken control of it.”
“Goddamnit.” The flyer rushed away. Seconds later the sound of explosions rattled down the narrow valley.
Mark checked the queue for the wormhole. Everyone had thrown themselves flat. “Come on,” he growled at them. “Get up, you miserable assholes. Get up! Get moving.”
They couldn’t have heard him, but the ones closest to the wormhole staggered to their feet and rushed toward it. Their desperation triggered a panic surge, with everyone hurrying forward at once. A scrum began to swell around the placid gray circle.
“Oh, brilliant,” Mark snarled. “That’s all we need.”
“They did well holding it together this long,” Liz said.
After several minutes the pushing and shoving eased up, though any pretense at a queue was abandoned. Everyone was crowding around the wormhole; with the twilight fading and the bottom of the valley almost black, they resembled bees swarming around their hive.
“Movement at the front,” Simon’s voice crackled out of the handheld array.
Armor-suited aliens were scurrying among the abandoned buses and cars. They were difficult to see among the shadows. There was no sign of the flyers. Mark checked the bustle around the wormhole. At least four hundred people remained.
“Mark?” Simon asked. “Are you ready?”
“I guess so.” Mark brought up his hunting rifle, and switched on the sight. The zigzag jam of buses appeared as neon-blue profiles against an oyster-gray ground. It was easy to see the aliens now. There were more of them than he realized, a lot more. They slid fluidly along the sides of the human vehicles, where the shadows were deepest. Weapons were swung up into open doors, or pushed through windows in the trucks as they searched for any sign of life. If they reached the head of the stream, everyone huddled around the wormhole would be a clear target. It would be a massacre.
Mark brought the rifle sight back on the lead bus, and tracked down the bodywork until he found the open hatch. It had taken him over an hour to prepare all the superconductor batteries, the manufacturers employed so many safety systems they were difficult to disengage. But eventually he’d wired them together in a single giant power circuit. The rifle sight bracketed the side of the battery. Mark fired.
The superconductor battery ruptured, discharging its energy in one massive burst. It triggered a chain reaction around the circuit. Every battery detonated in a blaze of electrons and white-hot fragments. Aliens went tumbling through the air or were pummeled into the ground, shrapnel and snapping electric flares overloading their suit force fields. Several of their own weapons exploded in turn, adding to the carnage.
Mark and Liz were running as soon as the blast began, heading farther downslope, closer to the precious wormhole. There were only about two hundred people left now, all of them hunched down in reflex at the latest outbreak of violence.
&n
bsp; “That ought to slow them up,” Mark yelled. “We’ll get out now.” They ran past the last tumble of rocks that they’d picked out as cover. Splashing through the stream, they arrived at the back of the frantic pack of people pressing toward the wormhole. When he looked back all he could see was a red glow from the burning boltgrass around the entrance to the valley. “Simon? Simon, what’s happening?”
“Good job, Mark,” Simon’s voice came in, as calm as always. “They’re staying back. It will take them several minutes to regroup. You’ll all get through.”
Mark hung on to Liz’s hand as he pushed himself up on his toes to look over the heads in front of him. There couldn’t have been more than a hundred or so. Maybe two minutes, if one went through every second. No, surely they could squeeze through two abreast. A minute, then. Minute and a half, tops.
Daylight poured down into the Turquino Valley. Mark tipped his head back to gape up into the heavens. Far far above them, five small blue-white stars shone down with a painful strength as they grew and grew. He stared at the new phenomena as surprise gave way to a rush of fury. “Oh, come on!” he screamed at the terrible lights. His legs gave way, dropping him to his knees. Even so he raised his fists up to the new peril. “You can’t do this to us, you bastards. One minute left. One goddamn minute and I’d be out of here.” Tears began to run down his cheeks. “Bastards. You bastards.”
“Mark.” Liz was on the damp soil beside him, arms going around his quaking shoulders. “Mark, come on, baby, we’re almost there.”
“No we’re not, they’ll never let us go, never.”
“That’s not them,” Mellanie said.
“Huh?” Mark looked up. The girl was standing above him, looking at the five dazzling lights. “That’s us,” she said. “We did that.”
“Up,” Liz said, her voice hardening. “I mean it, Mark.” She gripped one shoulder and pulled. Mellanie took his other side. Between them they dragged him to his feet. The last Randtown residents were scurrying through the wormhole. Above him the new stars were diminishing. Darkness was rushing back into the valley. Mark stumbled toward the wormhole, still not quite believing, expecting the fierce blast of a laser to catch him between his shoulders.
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