Exiles of Earth: Rebellion Page 9

  “To the glory of the Commonwealth,” the others said, all in chorus, each taking a quick sip of the bitter beverage. Thiou gagged at the taste, and Diaz glanced across at her again.

  “Colonial Rum. The same recipe that the first Martian spacers brewed, during the Second Expedition. Another Guard tradition. It’s an acquired taste. Don’t worry, you’re not expected to drink it all. It’s only for the toasts.”

  “Lieutenant Mitchell,” Ikande said, taking a quick sip of his soup, “I hope you are quite recovered from your exposure to hyperspace.”

  “No lasting effects, sir,” Mitchell replied. “Though I’m not anxious to repeat the experience. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything quite like it.”

  “A pity Technical Officer Khatri was unable to join is,” Fitzroy said. “We could have compared your experiences. Hyperspace Psychosis.” Shaking his head, he continued, “It sounds like a cocktail.” Turning to Navarro, he said, “Some more salt, would you? It’s a little bland.” Turning to Ikande, he said, “I think you need to instruct your chef to add more garlic next time.”

  “Lieutenant, for your information, I cooked this meal,” Ikande replied, Fitzroy’s face reddening. “It so happens that cooking is a hobby of mine. Luiz assisted me, of course. If you care for an alternative, I will send for an emergency ration pack, or perhaps you’d care to eat the same rations as the rest of the crew for a while.”

  “My apologies, sir,” Fitzroy said, as the steward dropped a pinch of salt into the soup.

  “Everyone should have a hobby,” Hoffman said, trying to break the silence. “I’m trying to pick up Sumerian. My father was a linguist, down at the University of the Sun. He keeps suggesting that I should take on the family business.”

  “How many languages do you know?” Thiou asked.

  “Only eight. Well, technically nine, but my Korean is atrocious.”

  “Eight is impressive enough,” Mitchell said. “I can barely manage English.”

  “I know,” Ikande replied. “I’ve read your reports.” A chuckle crept around the table, and he turned to Thiou, saying, “I hope you aren’t too uncomfortable, Doctor. We’re all friends here. There are no ranks in the Mess. We try to keep everything as informal as possible.”

  Looking around, she replied, “I knew that I was going to explore a new world, but the Guard is more alien than anything I’d expected. It’s a culture in its own right, one that’s developed quite separately from the surface.”

  Nodding, Mitchell said, “You should take a trip on a tramp freighter some time. Three, four months in hyperspace, crawling from star to star. Every ship is different, unique, with its own character, its own slang. Like a colony that’s been isolated far too long, out by itself.” With a smile, he said, “That’s part of the fun.”

  “Three months in hyperspace,” Diaz said, shaking her head. “One month is more than enough.”

  “Doctor Thiou thinks we’ll be going further than that,” Fitzroy said, forcing himself back into the conversation. “You might get to experience it for yourself, Midshipman.”

  “It still seems incredible,” Romanova said, turning to Thiou. “I know that Mars was settled by single-shot colony ships, but they still had a network, an infrastructure backing them. Did the Nationalist Powers really think that they could settle an extrasolar colony with a single ship?”

  “They were a dozen times larger than anything else ever built,” Thiou replied, at last comfortable with her topic. “It was an incredible concept. They had the hyperdrive, just about, but could barely manage two or three times the speed of light. A voyage to any suitable star would take years, so they placed almost everyone into cryogenic storage.”

  “A lost art, today,” Mitchell said. “Or we’d be using it ourselves.”

  “One more secret we might find out there,” Ikande added. “Go on, Doctor.”

  “Each had around fifteen hundred settlers, with a transfer crew of twenty. We’ve got good records of the first of them, a book written by one of the backup flight engineers.” Turning to Diaz, she continued, “One of your ancestors, I believe.”

  Raising an eyebrow, she replied, “Interesting.”

  “The transfer crew would get the ship to its target. A voyage of three to six years, not months. The longest deep-space voyage ever attempted.”

  “Six years?” Romanova replied. “The psychological pressures must have been extraordinary.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I’m sure nobody would have even attempted it, but the state of the world at that time made madness seem like sanity. Earth was at the start of the Ecocaust, the Last World War beginning. Mars, the other colonies, all of them seemed like long-shot chances. We forget today just how close to the edge the Martian Colonies were for the first couple of generations.”

  Nodding, Mitchell replied, “Like Luna.”

  “Exactly. That collapse could easily have happened on Mars.” Shaking her head, she added, “The men who launched those ships thought that they were humanity’s only chance for survival. Each was sent to a world that seemed a better prospect than anything in the Solar System, with enough supplies to establish the initial settlement, as well as a few other useful pieces of equipment. A full seed bank, for example, and frozen human genetic material to increase the gene pool through artificial insemination.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ikande said. “A full seed bank?”

  “Taken from the Spitsbergen storage.”

  “More fruits and vegetables,” Fitzroy said. “Can’t we just go down there and pick it up?”

  “That whole area was hit by a hundred-megaton bomb during the War,” Hoffman said. “It doesn’t exist anymore, not in any sense worth mentioning.” Looking at Ikande, he continued, “The geneticists back home would go crazy if they could take a look at one of those.”

  “What about the others?” Fitzroy asked. “I thought there were four of them. You said in your briefing back on Mars that three of them had already been found.”

  “Two by the Coalition,” Thiou replied. “The one we found was smashed to pieces, crashed into an asteroid. Nothing but debris, except for the log buoy. Though as far as I know, the Coalition hasn’t made any major discoveries either. It’s been thirty years since the last colony was found, just a few hundred people fighting to survive. If they’d found anything, we’d know.”

  “Then we have no way of knowing if we’re actually going to find anything useful,” Fitzroy said. “We could be going all this way for nothing.”

  “Maybe,” Ikande said. “Or we could take possession of an extrasolar colony, one in a prime position to serve as an operational base for attacks on the Coalition.” Sitting back in his chair, he said, “Most of you in this room know the score. Forget all the propaganda, forget everything the Ministry of Communications keep saying, we’re losing this little Cold War of ours. It’s getting harder and harder to pull minerals out of Proxima without being interfered with, and shortly before we left, Courageous was destroyed out in the Jupiter Trojans.”

  Hoffman turned, his face pale, and asked, “What about the crew?”

  “Lost with all hands. They’re blaming it on an accident, asteroid collision, but it was a sneak attack by a pair of Lancers. Our ship was looking at what appeared to be an illegal mining operation that turned out to be a Coalition base. All hell’s breaking loose at the Space Ministry, but we don’t have the ships to do anything about it. They have more and better bases than we do, and more military shipyard capacity.” Grimacing, he added, “I know there are those who believe that we’re going to have to come to some sort of permanent agreement within the next few years.”

  “Defeatism is just another form of treason,” Fitzroy said, his eyes narrowed.

  “So is refusing to admit reality,” Ikande countered. “And the cold, hard reality of our current strategic situation is that we need to find a way to change the game, one way or another. I know that the Admiralty is working on a few other plans…”

  “T
hat top secret Dreadnought that nobody knows about,” Diaz quipped.

  “As well as several other possibilities. We’re one throw of the dice, and perhaps the one with the greatest possibility of upsetting the strategic balance.” He looked at Thiou, and said, “Your discovery couldn’t have come at a better time, Doctor.”

  “I can’t guarantee anything, sir,” she replied.

  “We’re heading into Coalition territory,” Mitchell warned. “If we realize the potential of this find, they will, also. If they’ve got an advantage, they won’t concede it lightly. They’ll try to stop us, any way they can.”

  “I concur,” Ikande said. “Which is why, starting tomorrow, we’ll be undertaking battle drills on a daily basis, covering everything from a massed fleet ambush to a boarding action. We’ll work this crew until they break, then put them back together again, stronger than before.” Cracking a smile, he added, “So by all means, finish your soup. You need to build your strength up. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 11

  Reports and trajectory plots flickered across Mitchell’s terminal, each answered with a quick swipe of the hand to dismiss them, one after another. Four weeks had given him more than enough time to prepare for the transition to normal space. The computers were simply giving him one last chance to look over his figures. He glanced around the bridge, the dull amber lights in the ceiling providing visual testimony to their current alert status. Fitzroy was nursing his tactical systems, for once all business, with Petrov and Bianchi at the front of the bridge at their posts.

  Behind them, sitting in a chair hastily bolted to the deck, was Thiou, tablet in hand, looking at the viewscreen, nervous anticipation in her eyes. For all her protestations, this was the realization of a dream she’d held for years. You could tell that simply by listening to her. Even Mitchell had got caught up in the excitement, though he knew that there was little chance they’d find anything at their target.

  Epsilon Indi B 1. Not a name for the history books. Though the Coalition occupied the main system, they hadn’t cared enough about the lone rock tumbling around the brown dwarf companion to pay it a visit, at least, not according to their records. Just a solitary probe, sent the long way through normal space, giving it a cursory glance. Though if Thiou was right, humans had been here, decades before the Coalition and the Commonwealth had even existed.

  “Ninety seconds to egress, Captain,” he reported.

  Nodding, Ikande, implacable as ever, said, “Very good, Lieutenant. I want an immediate escape trajectory plotted as soon as we enter the system, just in case this turns out to be a trap. We might not be able to enter hyperspace for hours, but space is large enough to give us room to maneuver.”

  “Nice, simple battlespace, anyway,” Fitzroy said. “No moons or debris to get in the way.” He looked across at Mitchell, a hunter’s smile on his face.”

  “And nothing to hide behind, either,” Ikande warned. “Sensors, full active scan as soon as we enter the system. I want a complete map of the surface as soon as we arrive. Full probe deployment. I want to get this over with before news of our arrival can get to the Coalition station.” Pausing, he said, “And focused long-range scans on that station. If there is a warship in this system, I want to know about it.”

  “I don’t know how long it will take to complete an examination of the surface, Captain,” Thiou warned. “If we have trouble finding a target, it might take weeks.”

  “No, it won’t,” Ikande replied. “If it looks like it’s going to take that long, we abort the mission and go home. We’re outfitted for a quick, safe run, nothing more than that. We can’t hold this planet against any serious opposition.” Turning to the historian, he added, “You get one trip to the surface, Doctor. I suggest you find a way to make it count. Is your team assembled?”

  “Lieutenant Romanova is completing pre-flight now, Captain, and her people are waiting in the shuttle. I’d still like to make some changes to the landing party, perhaps…”

  “You’re the only real expert we’ve got, Doctor, and I don’t want a collection of untrained technicians bumbling around the surface. Lieutenant Romanova’s team are all trained to handle hostile environments, better than anyone else on board. Besides, I want to keep it nice and tight. The fewer people on the surface, the easier it will be to extract you.”

  “You really think they’ll come, Captain?” Fitzroy asked.

  “If there is a warship at that station, Lieutenant, it could be knocking on our door in less than twelve hours, potentially with only limited warning. Unless we learn otherwise, we’re going to assume that’s all the time we have.”

  “Ten seconds to egress,” Mitchell said. “Dimensional compensators on active standby.”

  “All decks are on standby alert,” Fitzroy added.

  “Nice and easy, Helm,” Ikande said. “Steady as you go.”

  There was a faint, barely perceptible shudder as the ship transitioned to normal space, the stars flickering onto the viewscreen. Bianchi’s hands were a blur on her controls as she brought the sensor package online, the trajectory plots jumping as reality overwrote the projections on the navigation system. Mitchell looked up at his display, easily plotting a course to take them into deep space, throwing in a low slingshot around the solitary world to give them additional speed.

  Endurance was slowly cruising into position, heading for a standard orbit, throwing off dozens of probes that raced ahead of her, filling in the blanks on the map. One glance at barren rock on the viewscreen explained the Coalition’s lack of interest in the world, just another worthless piece of real estate no different from a hundred others Mitchell had seen in his travels around the cosmos.

  “First images of the station,” Fitzroy said. “No sign of starship activity. Just the facility itself, and heat flares from a couple of shuttles.” Turning to Ikande, he added, “Looks like we’re clean.”

  “What about the surface?” Thiou asked.

  “Lots of craters, mountains, jumbled rocks,” Bianchi said. “That’s going to make this tough. We could easily be here for a while.”

  Shaking her head, the historian said, “You can ignore all the irregular terrain, Spaceman. Focus on any areas that would be suitable for a landing, the establishment of a surface installation. If anyone came here, that’s where they’ll be.”

  Nodding in approval, Ikande ordered, “Make it happen. Any sign of electromagnetic activity?”

  “There’s an old probe in orbit, non-functional, just a faint navigational beacon. Nothing else in local space at all, and no sign of anything from the surface.” With a frown, Bianchi added, “If there was a colony on this planet, Captain, it’s dead.”

  “We expected that,” Mitchell said. “The Coalition would have conquered anything they’d found in the system.” Tapping a control, he added, “Escape course plotted and ready, sir.” He frowned, then added, “We’ve lost contact with two of the probes. Both heading towards the far side of the planet. Instruments reading malfunction.”

  Turning sharply to the navigator, Ikande said, “Could that be normal?”

  “It could, there’s a failure rate of four percent on this design, and these are a new experimental variant. We haven’t worked all the bugs out yet.”

  “No sign of any other…,” Bianchi said, before saying, “Got it!”

  “Details, Spaceman,” Ikande replied, turning to face her.

  “Something on the surface, sir, tucked away in a deep crater. A dome, old design, very old.”

  “Show me,” Thiou said, unstrapping her restraints and racing forward towards the External Systems station. She peered over Bianchi’s shoulder, and said, “That’s an old SpaceWorks design, dating back to the 21st Century. I’ve seen similar types on Luna. I’d say we’ve found what we’re looking for.”

  “Any sign of recent activity on the surface?” Ikande asked.

  “Not a thing. It’s covered in dust, debris. As though it was deliberately concealed, but a long time ag
o, sir. Certainly predating the arrival of the Coalition in this system.” Thiou swept her hand across the display, and said, “Some tracks, but old, sir. I don’t think anyone’s been down there for at least a century.”

  “There’s no sign of the sleeper ship?” Mitchell asked.

  “Nothing in orbit, sir, and I’d pick up something of that size on the surface,” Bianchi replied. “Even if it was wrecked, there’d be some sign.”

  “We’ve got to take a look at it, sir,” Thiou said.

  Frowning, Mitchell said, “I advise caution, Captain. We don’t have a complete map of the surface yet, and we haven’t attained orbit.”

  “There are plenty of places that a starship could be hiding in the inner system,” Fitzroy said. “The clock could be ticking now, Captain, and we’re wasting time sitting up here. We’ve found what we came here to find. Let’s take a look at it.”

  Ikande nodded, turned to Thiou, and said, “Go, but proceed with caution. One word from Endurance, and the mission is scrubbed. No arguments or protests. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, already running for the elevator. Mitchell looked after her, then turned back to his station, bringing up the probe status monitor. A third one had gone dark, the same pattern as the others, immediate loss of information. Bringing up another at random, he called up a diagnostic program, running it through the tiny spaceship’s systems.

  “Orbit in one minute, Captain,” Petrov said. “Nice and easy. No sign of mascons on the surface. We should be able to settle right into position.”

  Turning from his station, Fitzroy added, “We’re getting some great data from the main system, sir. Intelligence is going to love us when we get back home, whether or not we find anything good down on that rock. Looks like they’re expanding the station, putting in a new refueling facility.” Turning back to his display, he added, “Maybe they managed to make contact with the aliens down there.”