Fermi's War Read online

  "They can both handle themselves. As can Warren, if it comes to that." He looked out at the horizon for a second before continuing, "I just hope there aren't many people involved. If it is just a matter of a few officers, then there is a good chance he can handle things. Otherwise we're going to have problems."

  "He will, you mean. You just put him in danger, and for what?"

  "This moon must be protected. We need the resources it holds, Lieutenant."

  "Damn it, the Republic's claim is going to hold. They're in the right, Captain," he stressed the rank harshly, almost spitting it out.

  "We don't get paid to do what is right, damn it. Our job is to do what is necessary. I hate this more than you do, but it is in the best interests of the Confederation. Having those resources will benefit the people that we are responsible to protect. It isn't all about fighting glorious battles and last stands, sometimes there is dirtier work to be done. And it is every bit as risky as war, and just as likely to have casualties.

  Cunningham sneered back, "I read the report of your last mission."

  "They died for the Confederation, and for Ragnarok. What we did was necessary, Lieutenant. Sometimes people die. We're soldiers, first and foremost. We wear a uniform and stand in the defense of the citizens of the Confederation, and everyone in the service knows that there is a risk that they will be forced to sacrifice their lives." The words came rushing out. "If you can't cope with that, then you need to get out of the service right now."

  "I'm perfectly willing to give my life."

  "You are a senior officer. It isn't about you. It's about something infinitely worse than that; it isn't as easy as leading a charge up a hill. Sometimes you have to put people you are responsible for at risk to complete the mission. You knew that during the war, knew that it was necessary. I shouldn't be having to tell you this."

  "When is it necessary, Captain? Are those rocks worth a single life?"

  "According to my orders, yes. Economically, it'll keep the wolf from the door for a while – and people die in depressions just as much as they do in war. I hate this – but I agree with it. We need these resources, and badly. Look at what we just saw down there. Four people who died for the future of their country, alone and forgotten, but nevertheless they all gave their lives gladly for a cause they believed in. There's no difference between the sacrifice they made and the one that servicemen are asked to make now."

  "I don't know if I can agree." By now the anger had burned away from Cunningham, and he as looking down at the console. Marshall placed his hand on the older man's shoulder.

  "Right now I badly need the Cunningham that once understood this. I need the man you were. But if you can't find him inside you, then it is time for you to leave the service." He looked up, and saw Alamo looming ahead. "We're on final approach for docking, better disengage. You can fly it in if you want."

  "Thanks."

  Chapter 20

  Esposito peered around the corner, her pistol nestled in her right hand, looking out at the airlock. The last three had all been non-functional, sealed shut, but this one seemed to be in use; there were even a pair of spacesuits hanging up in the emergency cabinet. Unfortunately, there was also a bored-looking guard, wearing an ill-fitting espatier uniform, a taser dangling at his belt. She ducked back into the corridor and quietly walked back to Orlova.

  "Well?" her friend asked.

  "Good news, we've finally got a working airlock, bad news, it's guarded. Though he only has a taser, so presumably they're hoping to take us alive."

  "That's a relief. How do you want to play this?"

  Esposito mused for a second, then replied, "We're both armed, and it's only a short run up to the guy. Let's keep it simple and charge him. Good chance he'll just give up."

  "That's it?"

  Her eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

  "I was expecting some sort of complicated plan. Tactics, deception, perhaps a reference to some ancient battle."

  "Three years of tactical training taught me that complicated usually equates to failure. If you can just charge, that's usually best. You ready?"

  Orlova pulled out her pistol, checking that it was loaded with light ammo. Anything heavy was liable to go right through the hull; the rounds they were armed with had been deliberately designed not to do much damage, though to a target the effect would be severe.

  "I'm ready."

  "Then let's go."

  The two of them, shoes off, walked down the corridor, guns drawn out ahead of them, and made it to the junction. The guard sounded as if he was having an argument with someone, and they waited for a few seconds until the conversation ended, hoping that his distraction would prevent him from noticing them. Esposito held out a hand with three fingers raised, then two, then one, and then the pair of them leapt around the corridor, guns out.

  "Raise your hands and drop your weapon!" Orlova yelled.

  Wordlessly, the guard tossed his taser to the ground, hands over his head. He looked at the two of them nervously; it struck Orlova that he probably just was a trooper doing the job he had been assigned to do, rather than part of any conspiracy. Still, they couldn't afford to take any risk; Esposito snatched the communicator off his belt and tossed it into the airlock.

  "Hope that's not an heirloom, kid, because that's going where we go." She raised her pistol again and shot the communications panel on the wall, sending a think trickle of smoke rising from the smashed equipment.

  "You put your suit on first, Maggie. I'll cover you," said Esposito. Orlova nodded and made her way across to the suits, picking out the one that was closest to her build, and quickly running a practiced eye over it. It seemed to be in order, and the auto-diagnostic was all green; of course, if the suit had been tinkered with, that might not necessarily mean anything. She scrambled into it, pushing her arms and legs inside with some difficulty, then reached for a helmet out of the overhead locker. Nodding at Esposito, she took the pistol from her and pointed it at the guard while her friend changed.

  "What's your name, kid?"

  "Private Nakawari. You won't get away with this," his tone was strong, but his voice trembled slightly.

  "I think we might. Little tip for the future – when you are guarding something the best thing to do is pay attention to your surroundings."

  "I don't take lessons from murderers."

  "Suit yourself." She reached into a pocket in the side of the suit and pulled out the portable medical kit, selecting a blue syringe. Typically they would be injected into a special slot in the suit as an emergency measure; this was going to be overkill, and Nakawari's eyes widened as he saw the sharp needle, but to his credit, he didn't flinch; Orlova gently placed him on the deck, arranging his arms so that he would be comfortable.

  "How long will he be out?"

  "At least an hour. I didn't give him anything too strong, just enough that he isn't going to be spreading any stories about us for the near future."

  "Good. Both these suits look fine, but mine only has half a tank of thruster fuel."

  "Should be enough. If we get this right, we're looking at one long jump to safety. With a bit of luck we'll be on our way to Alamo in a few minutes."

  It was crowded with both of them standing in the airlock, but they managed to fit with some effort. Orlova tapped the command sequences and the inner hatch slid smoothly shut, a hissing noise gradually fading to nothing as the atmosphere was siphoned out of the room. The alert lights flickered from green to red, and she opened the outer lock – which slowly rotated out, the last traces of atmosphere spilling out into space. The dull green form of Uranus hung in space, the slender thread of the Maru in front of it; though Orlova knew perfectly well that the freighter was less than a mile away, it looked to be unreachable.

  She raised her right hand, pointing at the distant target, and the suit's computer fired off a burst of its laser range-finder, quickly running through a series of course projections. Initially, it refused to even consider such a potent
ially dangerous maneuver, and half a dozen confirmations were required to enable the manual overrides; while Orlova was working through those, Esposito was hooking herself to her belt with a safety line, a couple of quick tugs to make sure it was secure – which only made the calculations even more complicated. Almost reluctantly, the course was computed, and the two of them braced themselves as Orlova tapped 'OK' on her wrist keyboard.

  A series of bursts, one after another, and the two suits began to move away from the station, slowly at first, then more rapidly. Orlova urged the thrusters on, knowing that the greatest risk wasn't what they were doing, but that they would be detected and brought back to Alamo. By now the station's control deck would have detected the unauthorized airlock use, and sensors would be focusing on that part of the hull to track their presence. A shuttle launched quickly might possibly be able to intercept them, but it would be a lot more straightforward to just shoot them down.

  Behind them, Shakespeare Station gradually dropped into the background, the airlock they had used slowly spinning away as their two suits curved gently towards the Maru. They could make out details on the freighter, the long stem of the fusion torch surrounded by bulbous cargo modules, and the spherical habitation module at the front, festooned with antenna and equipment. There was something odd about the forward part of the stem, a series of small hatches that didn't seem to serve any purpose. Even factoring in some magnification Orlova couldn't work out what they were for.

  "Gabi, you see those hatches?" Orlova waited for a reply that didn't come, then tried again, "Gabi, do you read me?"

  Her suit computer told her the story – they were being jammed, and short of banging helmets together they weren't going to be able to talk. Likely that would have thrown out the suit's intricate course calculations, so she decided to let the suit retain control. Halfway there, and still no sign of any pursuit, though the jamming was likely a sign of problems ahead. She couldn't see anything, though, and from where they were she could just make out the nearest shuttle bay, and she couldn't see any unusual activity.

  The thrusters began to fire again, stabilizing the course for the final approach; she could just make out a pair of suited figures emerging from the Maru, carrying cables and thruster packs – evidently they had realized what she was doing, and had come out to bring the two of them in. Her suit computer fired the thruster jets again, slowing their approach, the brief burst of acceleration comforting as the hull of the Maru grew closer and closer, before with a final burst she found herself hanging just short of the ship, within reach of a handhold. Like a drowning man clutching a lifeboat, she grabbed hold of it, swinging Esposito towards another one.

  Closing from underneath, one of the two suited figures pointed beneath him, and Orlova started to climb down the handholds. It was somewhat strange to be working on the outside of a ship that wasn't spinning, though it made it a lot easier to swing from rung to rung. The two suited figures waved them into the airlock and clambered in with them – now that she was close, Orlova could make out the insignia of the Atomic Syndicate painted on the side of their helmets, and grinned with reassurance. Atmosphere began to hiss again as the lock pressurized, and the inner door slid open to a sterile white corridor which they gratefully drifted into, pulling their helmets off, only for Yoshiro to swing into the corridor, a gun in his hand.

  "I'm sorry about this," he began, "but I'm afraid I have to confine you both."

  Orlova looked at Esposito, trying to weigh the odds of a potential escape – but stuck in their spacesuits and with nowhere to go, there didn't seem to be any options open. Reluctantly, they raised their hands and the two behind them began to remove their suits, taking care to relieve them of their pistols while stowing the suits carefully in a locker. They did a professional job looking through their pockets, tipping their findings into a small bag and sealing it up, placing it with the suits.

  "Why?" Orlova asked.

  "I don't have a choice. I was grateful for what you did; that missile wouldn't have done any damage to us to affect our performance, but all of us appreciated your actions."

  "Belt nationalists," Esposito spat out.

  "Not quite. I support the Confederation, as do we all. But we need those mines on Desdemona, you see, and we can't take the risk that the diplomats might hand them over to the Republic." His voice seemed very different to when they had met before, more calculated and refined.

  "You knew about the base, the reactor, everything. This whole thing was a set-up."

  "I'm afraid so. When we found the Chinese lander, we knew that it would cause a furor. That the Republic would claim the whole moon as theirs. Without those resources, the Belt is doomed." He looked around at the corridor, shaking his head, "All of these ships built for an era that no longer exists. But we're going to need them for the Belt-Desdemona run."

  "So it is all about money," Orlova said. "Pathetic. You'd start a war to make a few million credits."

  "Not million – billion. And for the people of the Belt, not ourselves. Besides, we don't think that the Republic will make a fight of it. They're overextended now. The Confederation might not take the risk, but we're willing to. This way."

  He gestured down the corridor, and the group began to drift along it, gliding down the left side with occasional pushes from the wall, then dropping through a hatch to a lower level and a carefully sealed door, obviously a cargo airlock. Orlova looked up at Yoshiro, shaking her head in disgust.

  "Thrown into space, then. I'm surprised you didn't just cut our suits."

  "Not today, Sub-Lieutenant. We've converted this one into a temporary cell. The outer lock has been sealed shut; I give you my word that no harm will come to you. As soon as the Battle of Desdemona is over, you can return to your units, and your possessions will be returned to you." He paused, then continued, "There is of course an alternative; you could join us. Both of you would be very useful on the bridge during the battle."

  "I'm not going to help you start a war," Esposito said.

  Orlova frowned, "What chance do you think you have against that frigate anyway?"

  Patting the wall, Yoshiro replied, "This is a Q-ship, Sub-Lieutenant. Built near the end of the war to lure in raiders. There are only three of these in existence, and it should be quite capable of giving the Republic thieves a run for their money. Besides, Alamo might not start a fight, but in a battle between a Triplanetary freighter and a Republic frigate, I know which side they'll join."

  "You might be surprised," she replied, but inwardly she knew that they had a point. If fighting was actually braking out, Alamo would be obliged to assist under the terms of the Formation Treaties. The Captain might be reluctant, but he wouldn't have a choice. Yoshiro tapped a button, and the hatch opened, revealing a familiar old man sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at the new arrivals.

  "Ah, company," he said. Orlova frowned for a moment, then recognized him as the shopkeeper from the station.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Yoshiro replied, "A Republic spy. Sorry to make you share this accommodation, but we've only got the one confinement area. Besides, we're going to turn him over to his masters after the battle." He looked at the two of them. "I'll arrange to have some rations sent in soon. If you have any special dietary requirements, just let the guard know."

  One of the two guards took a position outside the hatch as it slammed shut, and Esposito took a seat in the corner, Orlova leaning on the wall, looking vaguely at the disconnected panels, then looked back at the old man, who was still sitting serenely by the wall.

  "Are you a Republic spy?" she asked.

  He smiled, "I wouldn't be a very good one if I admitted it."

  "I'd say you don't have a lot of choice."

  "Orlova, Sub-Lieutenant Margaret. Alpha-shift Flight Control Officer on the Triplanetary Battlecruiser Alamo, decorated for valor following certain operations on Ragnarok. Interests including the history of 21st-century spaceflight, with an impressive collection
of artifacts; I've seen some of your acquisitions."

  She sat down, shaking her head again, "Well informed for a shopkeeper."

  "I consider it an essential part of my job to know my potential clientèle."

  Esposito butted in, "When did you find out about the alien base?"

  "Esposito, Ensign Gabrielle. Born on Mars, commander of Alamo's Espatier Force, also decorated for actions on Ragnarok. Not so obvious an in with you as there was with Sub-Lieutenant Orlova, I must admit; I had to find a different avenue with you. Though you picked up on the item I placed for your Captain, so it worked out well."

  "Why not just tell us about the base, and about your crash site? Why not tell us the truth rather than make us jump through hoops like this?"

  He sighed, "Quite simple. We couldn't move before Alamo arrived; despite sending one of our fastest ships, Alamo was going to get to Desdemona first. Had we announced before Alamo's discovery that we had artifacts on the moon, all evidence would have been destroyed, except the items we had been able to retrieve. Alamo had to be the one to find it, but we could provide a few pushes in the right direction."

  "And the station? What about Corporal Gomez?"

  "I have no knowledge of that, Ensign. We had no intention of harming anyone, simply to make sure that our legal rights on Desdemona were protected. While I have sympathy for the economic plight of the Belt, had they opted to join with the Republic rather than your Confederation, this would all have been a moot point." He sighed again, continuing, "As it is, they will push both sides towards war rather than even attempt a negotiated compromise."

  "Captain Marshall would try and reach an agreement."

  "Being familiar with his psychological profile, I agree. There are elements in my government that would accept a compromise in the interests of peace, but both sides have their hawks who instead crave war as the solution to their problems. I fear that the crew of this ship are going to give them the excuse they need to start the madness over again."

  Orlova was looking around the room, poking at the walls, while Esposito replied, "What about the rest of your people on the station?"