14
Erik and Trace’s arrival at the Karlabarata Parliament put all planetary business on hold for much of the day. The institutional representatives who made up the parliament had rushed to form committees, and Erik and Trace were escorted from one to the other, to speak a few words, and then be ushered off while the representatives deliberated.
In between meetings there was a meal of many green and salty things, though the smoked fish was quite nice. Eventually word came through that the committees had agreed with near-unanimity that Phoenix should be allowed to represent humanity in the Tsubarata, the precise details of which decision were explained to them at length by several very serious and slightly-awestruck lawyers. Erik tried not to think too much about the scale of what he was doing. His ultimate mission was to recover an old drysine data-core, something he’d thought logically could be better achieved by stealth. This current situation was hardly stealth, but he didn’t see that there was another way… and truly, if Phoenix was going to wander tavalai space, through civilised systems with billions of eyes watching, what else could he expect? There was no way to do it quietly, given all that had transpired between the tavalim and humanity over the past thousand years. He just hadn’t thought that the opposite of ‘quietly’, would be this.
After the lawyers, the politicians came. Speaker Prodamandam explained that politically, there was difficulty. All the millions of tavalai deaths in the Triumvirate War required some acknowledgement. There must be a gesture, to appease even the level-headed and under-emotional tavalai public.
And so Erik and Trace found themselves on another cruiser, flown away from the Parliament and across the city. It was evening as they landed, on the wide, curving bank of a river. The slope down to the water was all parks, gardens and tall trees, before a skyline of river-view towers. Lining the riverbank as they were led amongst armed security away from the cruisers, were a huge throng of civilians, clustered in their tens of thousands, necks craned to see the two uniformed humans amongst the officials.
At a wide patio before descending stairs, the inevitable waiting honour-guard, robed with tavalai formality. But this time, Erik saw with astonishment, it was children. They stood in rows, each with a lily, and several with garlands. Erik and Trace stopped where indicated before them, and several children came forward, nervously. Erik had only seen tavalai children a few times in person. Never had the circumstance been a pleasant one. Their heads were too large for their bodies, with big hands and feet, webbing particularly prominent between the fingers before it withdrew somewhat with age.
These kids tottered forward, following the gestures of their elders, and Erik sank to one knee to take his lilies, and accept a garland of flowers. He smiled at the kids, and they blinked with their big, froggy eyes. A few looked scared, which made him sad. But then, what else could he expect? Given what humans had actually done to so many tavalai, over recent years? This was not the childish fear of the innocent and unworldly. It was an entirely reasonable fear, born of too much experience. On this world, he was the bogeyman, and a thousand friendly smiles would not change it.
The children were ushered aside, and he and Trace were led down the wide stairs to the river. Between them at the river grew a forest of steel trees. Or they looked like trees, a twisting length of metal rising from the paving, rotating like a DNA helix. All the ‘trees’ were the same height, yet as the riverbank dropped lower, they rose up as the slope declined. Walking amongst them, Erik saw that their sides were engraved with hundreds of tavalai words. Thousands. Not spaced in sentences, but divided into pairs in rolling, looping Togiri script. Names.
“It’s a memorial,” he murmured to Trace. “A war memorial. These are the names of the dead.”
Now there were stairs climbing the sides of the steel trees, in a spiral, where visitors could climb and read the names written further up. Atop the spirals, the stairs made walkways, a second layer where visitors could walk above, and take in the view.
“Why the forest?” Trace asked quietly. She looked quite affected, Erik saw, her long-stemmed lilies in one arm, garland about her neck, and gazing about at it all. “Why do it like this?”
It was a long way from the more subdued, minimalist tone of human memorials and cemeteries, Erik guessed her thoughts. And then he realised. “The earliest tavalai civilisation was tree-houses,” he said, recalling that school lesson. “There were vast swamps. Tavalai climbed trees, and made walkways between them.” He gestured about. “Like this. They’re coming home. All the dead. They’re home.”
The memorial did not stop at the river’s edge. Here the water flowed in channels between the ‘trees’, as the ground advanced onto the river, on raised platforms, creating the impression of a swamp — water and land mixing together, in very tavalai style. Finally the trees ended at a vast, artificial semi-circle in the river. In the precise centre of that circle, a great sculpture rose from the deeper water, half giant tree, half burning fire. Strands of sculpted steel bent and swirled about each other, as though the river itself were burning. Beyond it, and just above the far bank, the yellow sun set within a pink and orange sky, the reflection of which set all the river to flame.
“How many names, do you think?” Trace asked as they gazed at the beautiful, alien scene.
Erik thought of each written name, the size of it, the number on each steel tree. Multiplied by the number of trees. Maths were much more a starship pilot’s strongpoint than a marine’s. “A few hundred thousand, at least,” said Erik. “That’s just for Tontalamai System’s losses alone, I think.”
“We put some of these names here,” Trace said quietly.
“Undoubtedly. And they put names on our memorials too.”
Trace took a deep, humid breath. “This was never right. Of all the people worth killing in the galaxy… not tavalai.”
“I know,” Erik said tiredly. “I think we’ve all known. It’s taken a huge, concerted effort, from humans and tavalai together, to deny that truth. We could have been friends. Too many other powers wanted it otherwise.”
“No,” Trace disagreed. “Too many of us. Humans and tavalai together. We did this. We should own up to it. Particularly the ones who made it happen, and had a chance to stop it, but didn’t.”
“We’re in,” Erik told the assembled senior crew in the briefing room, barely a single rotation later. He’s slept a little on the ground before departure, then most of the way back up, save for the most violent part of ascent. That, plus a quick meal, a shower, and now a covered mug of coffee in his hand, were all he needed to get his brain ready for the briefing. The planet-sized shot of adrenaline, from what they were all about to attempt, didn’t hurt either.
“The Pondalganam have confirmed our berth at Tsubarata Main.” The holography displayed a large map of the famous planetoid and its encircling steel rings. Erik pointed at a spot near the rotating rings with his laser pointer. “We’ve got an inner berth, zero-G, which just means they don’t want all our marines disembarking on their G-rim.”
“I wouldn’t either, if I were them,” Trace remarked, sipping one of her famously unappetising smoothies, in a new, clean-pressed uniform.
“I’m speaking at the main Parliament roughly… twenty-four linear days from now. For us, it’s about fourteen, after our jump.”
“What are you going to say?” Kaspowitz asked wryly.
Erik repressed a smile. “I’m sure I have no idea.” He’d always been good at public speaking, and had been encouraged by his parents to pursue it. As a Debogande, it was a useful skill to have. He’d given his share of presentations, for family or school events, and since in Fleet, though there he’d tried to avoid the media appearances that Fleet’s PR machine would try to thrust him in, not wanting special recognition from his name. He’d never been particularly nervous before, even in front of large crowds of important people. But the idea of speaking on behalf of all humanity at the central parliament of the tavalai-sphere peoples, was daunting even for h
im. Particularly knowing that everyone back home would see it eventually, and would hate him for it, whatever words he actually spoke.
“Now, being docked at the Tsubarata would normally be no security concern for anyone there,” Erik continued. “But we have Styx aboard, and so far we have good reason to believe that State Department remain ignorant of her presence. The only people who know are us, and Makimakala, and Captain Pram has sworn all his crew to secrecy. Tavalai don’t break those sorts of rules lightly, and State Department would have raised holy hell if they even suspected Styx existed, so for now I think we’re okay on that front.
“The next point is that Makimakala can’t help us on this one. We knew it was coming, and sure enough they’ve been officially summonsed back to Dobruta HQ, which is so secret they won’t say where it is, other than it will keep them occupied for a long time. So no more direct help from the Dobruta, no more translations, no more chiding on how recklessly we employ hacksaw technology. For this one, we’re on our own.”
Somber glances were exchanged between the crew. Erik had half-expected some rowdy remarks about how they preferred it that way, but there were none. Makimakala was still not exactly a friend, but in the past few months, they’d become far less than an enemy. Until this point in tavalai space, Makimakala had been Phoenix’s guarantee of safe passage, where no human warships were allowed. To lose that company now made everyone feel a lot more unhappy than they’d have believed three months ago, when the Dobruta ibranakala-class had thundered into Joma Station dock with all guns bristling.
“While the Major and I have been on Ponnai, Ensigns Uno and Jokono have been with Aristan’s people on Daravani Station. Jokono, over to you.”
“Yes,” said Jokono, looking almost a little nervous upon the edge of his chair. Erik supposed that for all his civilian experience, Jokono had never been involved in planning a military mission before. But beneath the nerves, with Jokono, there was always that professional calm… mixed with no little intrigue, to find himself in yet another new and challenging circumstance. It was the kind of professional confidence that Erik always found calming, like that of a wizened old cabinet maker, enthusiastic about attempting an unusual new style of table, and now considering which tools he’d need. “I won’t bore you with the details of what Hiro and I got up to on Daravani Station — suffice to say that Aristan’s people got us in, disguised as acolytes, and once inside, some of Hiro’s new hacksaw technology made accessing some local tavalai Fleet computer systems a relatively simple matter.
“We’ve been piecing that data together with the data that the ‘friendly’ elements of tavalai Fleet have given us, and this is what we’ve been able to discern.” He activated a holography hand controller, fingers splayed upon icons hovering in the air before him. The big hologram zoomed out from the Tsubarata, to show the red-brown world of Konik about which it orbited, and the outer moon of Kamala. “All vessels landing at Kamala must first land at the floating facility of Chara. Its location in the upper-atmosphere of Kamala is unknown at any given time, as we’ve discussed. What we haven’t known until now is how clearances are given and received for each vessel to progress from there, down to the surface, and the Kantovan Vault.
“We now know that vessels landing at Chara must not only undergo a full physical inspection there, but will have their orders transmitted simultaneously to the State Department Headquarters in the Tsubarata, and to a secure facility in the city of Gamesh, on Konik.” He indicated the big, brown planet. “That secure facility is in turn located within the Gamesh command network. Confirmation of these orders from Chara must be sent electronically, and independently, within the same thirty second window, back to Chara, from both the Tsubarata HQ and from Gamesh. It’s like a security lock demanding two keys be inserted and turned simultaneously by different people. If one of the recipients does not recognise the vehicle they’re being asked to clear, or delays answering for thirty seconds or more, it’s a security red flag and the ship in question will probably be boarded, and its crew detained.”
“So not only will we need forged electronic orders for the ship that lands on Chara to give to the command post there,” Hiro chimed in, far more relaxed and comfortable in his chair, “but we’ll need to have teams in place to infiltrate both Tsubarata State Department HQ, and State Department’s Gamesh facility, and simultaneously intercept and respond to those messages. Without State Department noticing.”
Grim stares from the assembled officers. They were elite, but infiltration cloak-and-dagger was not their speciality. “I’m guessing tavalai Fleet will be no help there?” Shilu said.
“No,” Erik agreed. “Fleet have no sway with State Department, and no agents within. Or at least, none they’re prepared to use for something like this. Now Hiro thinks we can infiltrate the State Department HQ in the Tsubarata. It won’t be easy, but we’ll have Styx right close-by in Phoenix, and with her help, we can pretty much hack into anything.”
“It’s not a hacking job, though,” Hiro added. He’d produced a nail file from somewhere, and used it calmly. “Those systems are autistic, simply not accessible from outside. Styx can help me get in. Me, and a few others, maybe. Once inside, I can be in position to intercept the incoming signal from Kamala, and confirm it as though it were approved by State Department. Konik will have to be someone else — I can’t be two places at once, and Konik looks like the bigger job, more suited to marines.”
“We’ll want to avoid killing tavalai if at all possible,” Shahaim told him. “Both the Dobruta and tavalai Fleet have been pretty clear on that from the beginning. Can you do that?”
Hiro stopped filing. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how badly you want this thing to work,” Hiro said darkly. Shahaim took a deep breath, and looked at Erik.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Erik told her. “Jokono, we’re going to need our other security expert down in Gamesh. Same deal, we’re going to need that facility infiltrated, so that when the message comes in from Kamala, it can be intercepted and confirmed as though it were State Department doing it. The big complication is that you won’t have Styx on-hand to help you do it.”
Jokono nodded slowly. “Who am I with?”
“Lieutenant Dale,” said Trace. “And some of Aristan’s people. There are plenty of parren on Konik, and the cloaks make a good disguise for humans. We’ll make a team, your discretion and Dale’s — yourselves, a few of Aristan’s best parren, and a Phoenix tech to run that side of it. We’ve got good data on the facility, and you’ll have fifteen days to put together your plan.”
Jokono glanced at Dale. Dale winked at him. “Piece of cake, Joker.”
“Ensign Hale’s team are due in Kantovan nearly six days before we are,” Erik continued. “We’ll have to get them their orders for the vault — tavalai Fleet have told us they’ll do it, since our transmissions will be monitored. Tif will be co-pilot, and although State Department know we have a kuhsi pilot, we don’t think it’s likely they’ll have biometric data on Tif herself.”
“And if they do?” Kaspowitz asked. “Seems a risky assumption.”
“The pilot crew of that descender will be all hired guns,” Erik told him. “If something goes wrong, we’ve no guarantee they’ll risk their necks for us. We need a Phoenix pilot aboard.”
“And you think Tif will risk her neck for us?” Kaspowitz pressed.
“Yes,” Hausler said firmly. “Absolutely.”
Erik looked about, and saw little doubt on the faces of those who knew Tif best. “Once she’s down on Chara, Chara will inspect the ship, then send confirmation back to the Tsubarata and Gamesh for clearance. We need our team to land on Chara in advance of Tif’s arrival, and get off without detection, then get onto Tif’s ship after the inspection, also without detection.” More grim expressions from the group. “Major?”
“My team will depart for Kantovan on a separate vessel,” Trace confirmed. “We’ll hav
e to make the transfer here, and quietly. Tavalai Fleet say they can get us a ride on a Fleet transport, they land on Chara all the time, but don’t actually descend into the atmosphere — State Department won’t give even them clearance for that. Or not to the vault, at least. We get down in advance of Tif’s landing, then get aboard after inspection.”
“Since I know that none of the marines will ever ask this question,” Kaspowitz said drily, “I’ll ask it myself. Does it have to be you?” Looking at Trace.
“It doesn’t have to be anything,” Trace told him with mild amusement. “But it’s going to be me, because this job will take marines, and quite likely shooting, with the armed guards in the vault, and we’ll need an experienced combat officer to pull it off. I’m sure my lieutenants could pull it off as well, but it’s imperative that this mission succeeds, and I’d like to think I wasn’t promoted to this rank by accident.”
Dale gave Kaspowitz a challenging look. Kaspowitz put up his hands, and backed out gracefully. Trace took control of the holographics herself, and a new display appeared, of what looked like an armoured bunker. “This is the vault,” she said. “Or it’s what Hiro’s best information says is the vault. Thank you Hiro.”
“Not at all, Major,” said Hiro, with a smile like a knife.
“We still don’t know where it is, but the coordinates are sent direct to the descender’s navcomp following State Department clearance. Chara could be a fair way from those coordinates when they come through, so it could still be a long flight time to get there. On return ascent, all vehicles have their navcomps erased. Communications with the ground are non-existent, as total stealth is the only way to hide the location. The vault will verify codes on landing. Our cover story, courtesy of tavalai Fleet, is the recovery of a State Department artefact that Fleet do know for a fact exists. Different State Department divisions in different systems will requisition artefacts or secure records frequently, leading to covert vessels approaching and departing Kamala about once every five days. They’re usually unmarked, often flown by hired crew who know nothing about the mission. It’s State Department’s way of ensuring personnel security, apparently they’ve had trouble in the past with attempted infiltrations kidnapping vessels and torturing crew for information. Hired crew don’t know anything, and there’s nothing in the descender’s navcomp until after they’ve landed on Chara.”
Kantovan Vault (The Spiral Wars Book 3) Page 21
