Doomsday minus 211 Earth days.
Barry Novak checked for cross traffic before pulling out onto Chester Street, westbound. He kept the driver’s side window wide open these days, so he could show his smiling face and give a friendly wave to the armed Security officers who patrolled each block along his way. They never smiled back. He didn’t expect them to. He just didn’t want any of them deciding he looked suspicious and burning a hole in his vehicle. Or in him, for that matter.
According to the news feed, martial law had been imposed in order to make the populace feel safer.
Yeah, right. Because being challenged by someone with a weapon each time you crossed a street or parked a vehicle on one was so comforting….
Chester Street began in Millbrook Enclave on the west side of the District, running in a straight line eastward through the commercial sector and across the canal to Clearmeadow Enclave. This afternoon, as Novak headed to Millbrook to meet with Juno Vargas, it was one of the few roads still connected to the Auto Traffic Control grid. He called up her address on the on-board computer, thumbed the “GO” icon, then sat back to watch the scenery, such as it was.
Like most thoroughfares in the commercial sector, Chester Street was lined with low-rise storefronts. Their display windows had proven to be tempting targets during the recent rioting. A growing number of stores were boarded up and vacant, abandoned by proprietors who’d been evacuated off-world or driven out of business. The rest, however, remained defiantly open, wearing their scarred façades with a sort of saddened pride.
Novak had been putting in long hours at work, and the steady hum and sway of the PV in motion soon made it difficult for him to keep his eyes open. Some time later, he was startled awake by the pleasant male voice of his computer, warning him:
“Arriving at ungridded road in thirty seconds … arriving at ungridded road in twenty seconds … arriving at—”
Stifling a yawn, Novak switched to manual operations and drove the rest of the way to Juno’s residence himself.
Millbrook Enclave was where all the high government officials had their homes. It also maintained the tightest level of security at all times, discreetly under normal conditions but more visibly under martial law. So, even though Vargas was expecting him, Novak had to stop and show identification at three checkpoints — one at the entrance gate and two more at major intersections — before pulling into the block-paved driveway of what had once been the Forrand mansion.
One of the guards had called ahead. As Novak pulled to a stop before Juno’s broad veranda, he saw her waiting for him, framed by the front doorway.
He stepped past her into the spacious foyer with its vaulted ceiling and ornate chandelier. Still seeing no sign of the housekeeper, he asked, “Where’s Estrella?”
“With her family, halfway to a colony by now, I would imagine. It seemed irrationally optimistic for me to be interviewing possible replacements for her. So, I’ve hired a service to come in every couple of weeks, to keep the place presentable. Other than that, for the next few months, at least, it’s just Angeli and me. I’ve sent her to the office today so that you and I can meet privately. I hope you’ve brought your toothbrush, Barry,” Juno added over her shoulder as she led the way to the basement door, “because we’ve got a lot to discuss, and you won’t be able to leave once darkness falls.”
Novak was well aware of the curfew. It had already cost him one of his remaining operatives. “Not a problem. I keep a go-bag in the trunk of my PV.”
Juno swung the door open and stood aside to let him pass. “You know the way. Water’s already boiled. I’ll bring the tea tray downstairs.”
Ten minutes later, they were sitting across from each other in the clean room, and Madame Chief Adjudicator was pouring a pale amber liquid with a faintly sweet aroma into two delicate porcelain cups.
“Apple cinnamon,” she offered without being asked. “Not a flavor I particularly like in a tea, but in the current situation, I’m having to make do with what’s available.” She settled herself into the cushions of the dark blue loveseat, then told him, “We need to talk.”
That sounded ominous. He paused with his cup halfway to his mouth and gave her an inquiring look.
“What do you know about a General George Bascomb?”
Abruptly, things became clear. “Ah,” he said. “The man who sent the Priam to Daisy Hub.”
“Patricia Chen, the chair of the High Council, was the one who greenlighted that mission. It was probably payback for the way I forced them to settle the strike. Lynette swears up and down that she had nothing to do with it, but I’m betting that she’s the one who told Chen about Forrand’s and my connection with the station. Meanwhile, you haven’t answered my question. What do you know about Bascomb?”
“I checked him out as soon as I received the report from my contact on Zulu. I know that he’s been power-hungry for most of his life, and that he ended up in Planetary Security after trying and failing to get into politics. Not surprisingly, he rose quickly through the ranks and reached the top spot in record time. I know that wearing the biggest hat in Planetary Security gives him access to people with even greater power than his own. And from everything that I’ve heard, he can be shameless and cynical about using them to increase his own sphere of influence.
“In fact, the Priam’s mission to Daisy Hub is sounding more and more like a quid pro quo to me,” he concluded.
“Maybe it is, but there’s more you need to know about George Bascomb. If the Council wanted revenge, they chose a highly motivated agent to exact it for them. Bascomb was already carrying a huge grudge against Dennis Forrand, and against anyone and anything associated with him.”
Novak straightened in his seat. “Like Earth Intelligence?”
“And Daisy Hub, and Veggieville, and the Reformation itself.”
His curiosity piqued, Novak raised an eyebrow. “Veggieville?”
“Long story for another time.”
“So you’re telling me that Bascomb is the EIS’s ‘enemy number one’?” he said.
She nodded, her expression grim. “There’ll be no getting rid of him by the usual means, I’m afraid, so we’re all going to have to watch our backs with special care from now on. He’s ruthless, relentless, and connected. And yes, I’m well aware that those were the words people often used to describe Dennis Forrand when he was still in power. But whatever Forrand was, trust me, Bascomb is much worse. I’m pretty sure he’s the reason Forrand faked his death.”
“Did Forrand ever talk about him?”
“Just once, without mentioning his name. When I first approached Forrand to mentor me, he told me that he was living with a target on his back, and that anyone associated with him, and anyone associated with them, would be in danger. Much later, I found out by accident that Bascomb was the one who’d put the target there, during their senior year at high school together. They’d apparently been fast friends up until then, but they’ve been sworn enemies ever since.”
Novak frowned. “Any idea what caused the rift?”
“None. Anytime I raised the subject, he shut me down. It must have been something serious, to remain unresolved after fifty years. And speaking of unresolved issues…”
She paused for a sip of her tea, which was apparently none the worse for having gone cold. Then, still holding the cup in one hand and the saucer in the other, she asked, “Have you given any thought to our exit plan?”
Confused, he repeated, “Our exit plan?”
“Yours and mine. Bascomb’s attempt on Daisy Hub made me realize something important. Drew is brilliant at his job. I say that without bias. He is obviously more than capable of protecting his station and the people on it from Human threats. However, in just a few months, the Hub is going to come under a massive alien attack that will almost certainly destroy it. We can’t let Earth Intelligence be destroyed along with it.”
“And by Earth Intelligence, you mean…?”
“The organization. Our network of contacts and operatives. The information we’ve gathered and stored. What did you think I was talking about?” Before he could respond, she went on, “Drew’s mission was to set up a remote base on Daisy Hub where the EIS could regroup if our ability to continue operations on-world ever came under threat. Well, that frypan is heating up as we speak.
“Realistically, the chances of either one of us getting off-world before the aliens attack are too slim to measure. Meanwhile, we’re losing agents and confidential contacts every day to the evacuation, and eliminating Forrand’s personal spies has reduced our numbers as well. Bit by bit, Earth Intelligence is falling apart. And Plan A is a non-starter, since Daisy Hub will be gone in a matter of months.
“Bottom line is, we need another off-world base,” she concluded, “one that’s already populated, and we need it sooner rather than later.”
“How about Stragon?”
She threw him a look. “So we can have front row seats at their civil war? No, thanks, not in a thousand years. Besides, we’re the Earth Intelligence Service. Doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose if we’re based on an alien world?”
But it wasn’t an alien world. Novak bit his tongue, wanting desperately to tell her that. Instead, he pointed out, “When this is over, there will be a sizable Earth colony on Stragon. That can be our base. Or your brother’s, if we don’t make it. Or maybe even if we do. As you’ve said, he’s more than capable of running things, and he’ll need a new assignment after Daisy Hub is gone.”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I suspect we all will. By the way, Ridout bent my ear for half an hour last week about his niece. Apparently, he sent her to Riviera Hub shortly after the general strike to keep her safe, and now he’s lost track of her. I tried reaching one of my contacts who’d been sent there as well, but, strangely enough, he’s gone too.”
“You think they might be together?”
“Come on, Barry, we both know they are. Interesting, though, that they would end up on Daisy Hub.” She raised an eyebrow in silent accusation.
“That wasn’t my doing, Juno, I promise you.”
“You know, Forrand was very particular about who he put on the Hub. He purposely separated family members to ensure there would be no conflicts of interest. He would not be pleased right now.”
“No, I imagine he would not.”
“In fact,” she said demurely from behind her teacup, “if he were really dead, he’d be spinning in his grave.”
“I take it Juno Vargas isn’t going to do anything to remedy the situation?” he ventured, his own lips quirking at the corners.
She took a leisurely sip. “There’s nothing she can do. Let the bastard spin.”
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 183 Earth days.
Fleet fighter craft were buzzing around Daisy Hub like a swarm of angry bees.
“I swear, if they get any closer to our hull, they’re going to knock us right out of orbit,” Ruby grumbled.
“But you have to admit, they’ve improved,” said Lydia from her console. “When they first started, the entire squadron got blown up and anything they hit was an accident. Now the computer is registering a seventy percent kill rate with only one or two casualties per run. And there hasn’t been an in-space collision in nearly an interval.”
That first training exercise had been an eye-opener for the Terran pilots. Still feeling cocky, they had been ordered by the warmaster to destroy a target on one of the moons in the system. They had approached it in close formation, breaking off in pairs for the attack run. And then a dozen Nandrian fighters had emerged from the other side of the moon. Flying at top speed and in no apparent pattern or formation, the “enemy” had attacked from all directions at once, easily picking off every one of the Terran ships. Besides giving the Humans a practical demonstration of the weaknesses in their leader-wing man configuration, it had also shown them in no uncertain terms just how much they needed to learn about space combat, and how much the Nandrians could teach them. As the warmaster had no doubt intended, the Humans were much more serious and attentive students after that.
The lesson hadn’t been lost on Tang and Nelligan, either. They had sent a message to Fleet Command, and Chief Admiral McPherson had sent one back. And shortly after that, General Bascomb had received word from the High Council that his presence was urgently required back on Earth.
Drew stole a glance over Ruby’s shoulder at the blips on her screen. Moving as a unit, the fighters corkscrewed in toward the station’s north end, separating into groups of four at the last second and skimming in diamond formation along the length of the Hub on all sides. Then they dashed away in what looked like seven different directions before swooping back into diamond formation to repeat the maneuver, headed the opposite way. The Fleet ships had been practicing this tactic for nearly three intervals now, with the Hub standing in for the Corvou swarm and the fighters dodging and darting every which way around it, moving progressively closer to “the enemy” each day.
Treating the Humans as adolescents just beginning their training for tekl’hananni, the warmaster had chosen the three simplest offensive maneuvers in the Nandrian playbook as the basis for the war games — but that didn’t mean they were easy to learn. Battles in space were three-dimensional and waged at top speed. They demanded intense concentration and perfect timing. Not until the Fleet ships could perform this first maneuver to the warmaster’s satisfaction would they be shown the second. With luck and practice, all three would be learned reflexes, ingrained into muscle memory, before the Corvou swarm arrived.
“Drew, I’ve got Gouryas on the comm,” said Lydia. “He says they’re all finished on the landing deck, if you’d like to come and inspect their work.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes. Is Captain Rodrigues still aboard?”
“He is.”
“Good. Have him meet us there.”
Townsend and Rodrigues stepped out of their respective tube cars to find the Corvou ship sitting on what appeared to be a pair of sled runners.
“We’ve mounted the fighter on a track so it can move back and forth with the recoil,” Gouryas explained. “When the time comes, we’ll bolt the track to the deck directly in front of the doors to space. It’ll be like a cannon on an old-time battleship. We already know that the invisibility field only deflects light. It’s permeable to everything else. So, whoever is assigned this position can fire through the field at targets on the other side of it.”
“But if the field deflects light, how will the shooter know where the targets are?” Townsend asked.
“We haven’t quite figured that part out yet,” Singh replied. “But we do have a way to protect the shooters. If the station continues to rotate while the thrusters burn sporadically to randomize our speed in orbit, the enemy should be unable to pinpoint the source of the weapons fire.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Rodrigues. “You’re talking about firing at constantly moving targets with a stationary weapon bolted to a randomly moving base. That would make it nearly impossible. It would be like … like…”
“…like performing brain surgery during an earthquake?” Drew supplied, and the Ranger nodded vigorous agreement. “Gentlemen, I think this plan needs a bit more seasoning.”
“Well, would it please you to know that our power supply problem has been solved?” said Gouryas.
Drew cast a glance in the direction of the field generator and saw two additional dark shapes in the corner behind it. “Agnosk sent those?”
“Along with a technician to install them,” Singh confirmed. “They’re fully charged and tested. We’re good for at least four intervals of continuous use. And all Agnosk wants in return is whatever is left of the Corvou fighter once the war is over.”
“Sure,” Townsend responded absently. Four intervals translated to just over six Earth weeks. A month and a half was a long time to fight. Part of him was hoping the battle wouldn’t last that long. However, since their purpose was to delay the inevitable, the rest of him — the major part of him, in fact — wanted it to go on forever.
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 175 Earth days.
“Captain, we’re being hailed.”
Takamura turned in his chair and stared a question at his communications officer.
“It’s the Liberty, sir. Commander — no, sorry, it’s Captain Dedrick now. He’s asking permission to dock with us and bring his passenger aboard.”
“Grant it, Mr. Brandt. And have Security meet them on the docking platform and escort them here.”
“Aye, sir.”
Thirty minutes later, four men stepped out of the tube car onto the bridge. Takamura dismissed the Security detail and led the way into his office for a private conversation.
“Captain Hiromasu Takamura, this is Captain Ross Posey of Space Installation Security,” said Gael. “He’s on personal leave from his posting on Riviera Hub.”
Grateful that Dedrick had spared him the necessity of asking what would have been a delicate question, Takamura bowed from his shoulders to acknowledge the introduction. “Captain Posey, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Before his transition to civilian life, Commander Dedrick spoke of you often. I trust you’ve been enjoying your tour of Earth space?”
Posey and Dedrick exchanged a look.
“Captain,” Gael began, “I promised Ross a couple of years ago that when the fighting started he would be on the front lines. I’m now in the process of keeping that promise. Problem is, the Liberty isn’t a warship.”
“But the Marco Polo is,” Takamura said with a nod. “We’re on our way to join the war games at Daisy Hub. You know how dangerous it is for civilian observers to be in a battle zone, Captain Dedrick.”
“With all respect, sir, I’m not a civilian, and I don’t plan to watch,” Posey told him. “Since that meeting with Gael, I’ve been taking recurrency training to sharpen my piloting skills. I’ve not only regained my certification, but I’m also checked out on four different types of small spacecraft, including the class of shuttle sitting on your hangar deck. Most of my off-duty time has been spent practicing evasive and offensive flight maneuvers using a sim program. I’ve also been maintaining scores of nine-point-zero or better with my sidearm, as per SIS requirements, and I’m familiar with three other types of portable weapons, as per Fleet requirements. I want to fight.”
“Sims are a poor substitute for time in an actual cockpit, and since all the fighting will take place in open space, there won’t be much opportunity to use a sidearm in this war, Captain,” Takamura warned.
“I’m aware of that, sir. But I graduated near the top of my class from the Fleet academy, and it won’t take much to make me battle-ready. All I’m asking for is the chance to prove myself.”
Takamura leaned back thoughtfully in his chair. Standing at attention on the other side of his desk, Posey certainly looked like a warrior. He had the height, the build, and the bearing of one. And if he was telling the truth about his skills, by the end of these war games he might even become one.
“When are your superiors expecting you to return to duty, Captain Posey?”
Standing even taller, the SIS officer replied, “Not until the dust clears, sir. I had a year of leave saved up, and I’ve taken all of it.”
“I see. In that case, you may remain aboard until everything you’ve told me has been verified at the source. If your story checks out, then I promise you will get your chance.”
Posey gave him an energetic salute. “Thank you, sir.”
Takamura punched a button on his comm. “Mr. Brandt, Captain Dedrick’s passenger will be staying with us for a while. He’s to wait on the bridge while you summon an escort for him to the quartermaster’s office.”
“Aye, sir,” came the reply.
“You won’t regret this, Captain,” Posey promised as the door hummed open behind him.
When they were alone together, Takamura gazed inquiringly into Dedrick’s face and said, “Now, what about you, Gael? Was your search for a safe haven for Lania successful?”
“In a way, sir. I’ve come to the conclusion that the safest place for her to be right now is aboard the Marco Polo. And if you’ll permit it, I’d like to remain here as well, serving as temporary crew until the fighting is over.”
“Well, your credentials for that are impeccable, and we are in an exigent situation. But what about the Liberty?”
“If room can be found for her on the landing deck, I’d be willing to put her at your disposal.”
“With yourself as pilot, no doubt?”
“That would be preferable, but since we’re at war and I’m now a civilian ship’s captain, I would leave it to your discretion.”
“Then I believe we have an arrangement, Captain Dedrick. Welcome back aboard.”
“Thank you, Captain. And now that that’s settled, there is one more thing I’d like to discuss with you, concerning Daisy Hub….”
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 145 Earth days.
One by one, the Fleet’s largest ships were being released from evacuation duty and assigned to join the war games. Each of these vessels arrived at Daisy Hub with cargo holds fully loaded with fuel and supplies. Ideally, the Hub and the Fleet could thus be kept provisioned without the need to divert additional ships from the evacuation effort.
In theory, it was a practical strategy. However, the war games were far from over, and each new shipment also brought another ship and its crew, creating a greater demand for supplies and consequently shortening the length of time they would last. Eventually, the High Council was going to have to dedicate a number of ships to supply runs. They couldn’t be alien ships, either — those vessels had been loaned to Earth on the condition that they be used to carry evacuees to safety.
So, what would happen when the entire Fleet was working out in Daisy Hub’s front yard? Townsend didn’t know. There had been no clarifying word from Earth, and the silence was making him uneasy.
He was at his desk, drafting an urgent inquiry to the Space Installation Authority, when Ruby caroled across the deck, “Guess who’s back, Chief!”
“Santa Claus,” Drew snapped. “He’s lost his way and needs a map to the North Pole.”
“You’re almost half right. It’s Yorell Enne and the Melkarit, and they’re bringing us sacks filled with goodies.”
“What?” Saving his draft, he got up and joined her at the main console.
There was an unmistakable furry face on the screen, gray shading to black at the edges, framed by a shock of thick white hair.
“Greetings, Mr. Townsend! I asked your government how the Melkarit could best be of service until we have to return to Eggenar, and this was their answer. We’re carrying fuel for the ships and supplies for Daisy Hub. Where do you want us to dock?”
“Proceed to Deck M, Ms. Enne. We’ll have the dock foreman extend an unloading platform for you.”
“And one more thing, if you wouldn’t mind…? As long as we’re making supply runs, it would free up significant space in one of our cargo pods if you could store Mr. Pirrit’s fighter on your landing deck again. It would only be for a few intervals.”
“Of course. Can I assume that Mr. Pirrit and his mate will remain with it?”
“I believe he will insist upon it.”
“Excellent! There’s a small favor he can do for us once he’s aboard.”
A pause. “I’ll pass that message along,” she said.
Ruby blanked the screen, then turned and inquired expectantly, “A favor?”
“On Zulu,” he replied. “I think it would save everyone a lot of trouble if the Rangers’ field generator could control its own invisibility shield.”
“You honestly believe Rodrigues is going to let anyone increase the threat level on Zulu by tinkering with his alien gadget?”
“Not just anyone. An expert. We can send Singh over there to vouch for Pirrit’s creds. And don’t even think about starting a betting pool about this.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “A betting pool? Why, I wouldn’t dream of it, Chief!”