Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) (46 page)

Kostovich had
read all the intelligence briefings that had been given to Cortes.  They
indicated that Mars was not open to negotiation and recommended seizure of
important Martian installations by force.  As a prelude to that they
recommended again and again that the orbiting missile platform,
Parry 5
,
should be destroyed.  Those plans had been signed off by the president.

Kostovich had
also read all the communications between the defence department on Earth and
Commodore Lucero on
Ephialtes
.  There was absolutely no
ambiguity.  Until
Ephialtes
was in orbit around Mars the mission
priority was to destroy
Parry 5
.

That very
afternoon Kostovich had spent some time listening in to communications on board
Ephialtes
.  Lucero had briefed her senior commanders on the
attack.  They were going to fire a sequence of three missiles, spaced
fifteen seconds apart, at
Parry 5
approximately thirty seconds
after they were in range.  They had assumed the range of the Parry
missiles was similar to their own, and they anticipated that they would not be
attacked immediately they were in range.  The missiles they had were
mostly defensive and would be up to the task, they thought, of seeing off any
Parry missiles that might be sent towards them.  They were unaware of the
avoidance routines that Kostovich had added to the Parry’s guidance systems and
the increased range he had squeezed from improving the efficiency of their
engines.  Kostovich estimated that one out of every three missiles he sent
towards
Ephialtes
would get through.  He had nine missiles prepared
to fire, and he only needed one to reach its target.

Kostovich
looked at the clock in the corner of his screen.  It was orange, and
showed 01:37:13.

“Could you
put me through to Mr Venkdt, please?”

“Who’s
calling?”

“It’s
me.  Dan Kostovich.”

“I’m sorry,
Dr Kostovich, Mr Venkdt is in a meeting right now.”

“It’s
urgent.”

“I’m sure it
is urgent, Dr Kostovich, but Mr Venkdt is in a meeting right now.”

“It’s a
matter of national security,” said Kostovich.

Venkdt’s
PA was used to fighting off people who wanted
some of his precious time, but this line was a new one on her and she hesitated
for just a moment.  “Mr Venkdt has expressly asked that he not be
disturbed in this meeting, Dr Kostovich.  I can pass on a message for him
to call you as soon as he’s finished?”

“I need to
speak to him right now.  We are in present danger of attack by an enemy
force, and I need to speak to the president.  Please put me through.”

“Hold the
line please,” the PA said, in a languorous and unhelpful tone.

Kostovich was
looking at the orange number counting down in the corner of his terminal.

The PA came
back on the line.  “I’m transferring you now, Dr Kostovich.”

Kostovich
went to say thank you, but the line clicked before he had the chance and he was
through to Venkdt.

“What is it,
Dan, I’m in the middle of something here?” said Venkdt, in a not unfriendly
voice.

“It’s
Ephialtes
,
Mr President.  She is almost within missile range.”

“Okay,” said
Venkdt.  “We talked about this, didn’t we?”

“We did,
sir,” said Kostovich, “but it was all a bit abstract then.  Right now it
seems very real, and a different proposition.”

Venkdt
thought.  “Nothing’s changed, Dan.  We agreed what we have to
do.  And you can do it with no loss of life, right?”

Kostovich
hesitated.  “I can take out
Ephialtes
, no problem.  The issue
is what to do with the crew once we’ve disabled their ship.  We can’t just
leave them up there.”

“I see,” said
Venkdt.  “I thought you had a plan for that?  For getting them off, I
mean.  We spoke about that too, didn’t we?”

“We
did.  Yes, we can send a shuttle and some troops and probably get them
off.  If they’re happy to be taken off.  Remember, strictly speaking
they are an enemy military and we will have just destroyed their major ship.”

“Okay, so
you’re worried that it might not work out?”

“I don’t
know, sir.  It just seems a
bit .
 . . serious,
I guess.”

“Listen, have
Maya Foveaux go over your rescue plan.  She has some good people and I’m
sure she’ll be able to make it work.  Go through it with her, and
implement our original plan for
Ephialtes
unless you have any reasonable
alternatives.”

“I
don’t.  I’m listening to their coms.  They’re going to shoot down
Parry 5
as soon as they have the opportunity.  That will be in about one
hour.”

“One hour?”
said Venkdt.  “In one hour they’re going to destroy our only airborne
missile defence system, and you’re having qualms about defending it against
them?”

“I don’t have
any qualms about it at all,” said Kostovich.  “But I’m sitting here with
my finger on the trigger and it feels a lot different now to how it did when we
discussed it weeks ago.  I just need to know that this is what you want.”

Venkdt
paused.  “Kostovich, this is a direct order from the president of
Mars.  In order for us to be able to maintain the defence of our nation
and our planet it is our sad duty to have to disarm
Ephialtes
.  I
am
ordering
you to do that.  In addition to this verbal order I will
make a written statement and publish it to the government site.”

“Yes, Mr
President,” said Kostovich, “of course.”

“Is that
clear enough for you?” said Venkdt.

“Very clear,
sir,” said Kostovich.

“Good,” said
Venkdt.  “Take her down.”

Kostovich
immediately took the plans his AIs had written and sent them to Maya Foveaux,
along with a message asking her to read them as a matter of urgency and comment
on any areas she had issues with.  In essence the plan was simple. 
It was to dock a shuttle with
Ephialtes
via one of the emergency
ports.  The port would then be breached and a small contingent of Martian
military would board the ship.  Armed with loud hailers as well as
standard military equipment they would search their way through the ship making
their benevolent intentions clear.  Should the crew of
Ephialtes
remain belligerent they would retreat back to the shuttle and leave.  If
they were amenable to it, they would be disarmed and escorted to the shuttle
and thence to the surface of Mars, where they would be held until such time as
they could be transported back to Earth.

Technically,
it was a simple mission.  The difficulty was knowing what the attitude of
the
Ephialtes
crew was going to be.  If they chose to be difficult
things could turn nasty.  A firefight in an enclosed space where the enemy
has numerical advantage was not an enticing prospect.  Kostovich knew that
Foveaux’s military were green and that this particular job required great nerve
and tact.  He wasn’t sure if they’d be up to it and he needed to know
Foveaux’s opinion.

Kostovich
watched the numbers ticking down in the top right of his screen.  He had
assigned Baldwin to keep a particular eye on
Ephialtes
and Walton to
take care of
Parry 5
.  As the countdown clock reached 00:45:19
he spoke to her.  “Could you please arm three EMPs,” he said

“Arming three
EMPs,” she replied.

Kostovich saw
he had an incoming call from Foveaux.  Before he took it he called to
Baldwin, “Keep on top of
Ephialtes’
coms.”

“Yes?” said
Kostovich.

“I have your
plans here,” said Foveaux, “I’ve only had chance for a quick read through but
it seems pretty simple.  When are you thinking about doing this?”

“It would be
soon,” said Kostovich.  “Do you really think your people are ready for
something like this?”

“Who else is
going to do it?” said Foveaux.

“I know
there’s no one else,” said Kostovich irritably, “that’s not the question I’m
asking.  Can your people do it?”

“Yes,” said
Foveaux.

“Good,” said
Kostovich.  “Start preparing now.  We’ll only have a very short window
to put this thing into effect.  Is there anything you need?  Anything
you need from me?”

“We have all
the equipment we need,” said Foveaux.  “Thank you for that.  Who is
organising the shuttle?”

“Don’t worry
about that, it’s all taken care of.  I’ve gone through Venkdt for that,
the shuttle is being prepared and should be ready for launch within forty-eight
hours.  I don’t know how long they’ll be able to survive on
Ephialtes
once we’ve destroyed the life-support capabilities.  Two to three
days would be my guess, but I can’t even say that for sure.  As soon as
the shuttle is ready for launch we need to go.”

“I
understand,” said Foveaux.

“You do
know,” said Kostovich, “that they may not want to be rescued.  They may
not even accept that it is a rescue.  Your people will be boarding an
enemy ship, a potentially hostile enemy ship.  It will be a live military
situation.  You’re prepared for that?”

“Of course,”
said Foveaux.

“Good,” said
Kostovich.  “Get training.”

Foveaux was looking
through a simulation of
Ephialtes
’ interior and thinking about the task
she had been charged with.  She knew that her people were fundamentally
security guards and not military, but she also knew they were keen to assist
with the forging of the new planet and any security services it needed. 
Kostovich was right; this was going to be a military operation and far beyond
anything any of them had ever done before.  She had told him they were
ready, but in truth she wasn’t sure herself.

While she was
familiarising herself with
Ephialtes
she put a call through to Bobby
Karjalainen.

“Hello?” said
Bobby.

“Hello,
Foveaux here.  Listen, I know you haven’t even started yet but I have a
big favour to ask.”

“Go on,” said
Bobby, cautiously.

“Very soon,
very
soon, we will be undertaking an extremely important mission.  As you
know, we have very limited combat experience, and this mission will be taking
place on an enemy spacecraft.  You’re the only person in the MSS who has
any combat experience whatsoever.  You have a knowledge of tactics and
weapons too, which is something we don’t have.  I know we said Monday, but
could you get down here as soon as possible and join our training for this
mission?”

“Join your
training?”

Foveaux
spluttered, “Well, you know, lead the training.”

“Okay,” said
Bobby, “I’ll get down as soon as I can.  I have a few things I have to
finish up first.”

“Thank you,”
said Foveaux.

“This
mission.  Enemy spacecraft?  You’re talking about
Ephialtes
?”

“I am.”

“You’re
sending a force to attack
Ephialtes
?”

“Not to
attack.  It’s a rescue mission.”

“I don’t
follow,” said Bobby.  “Who are you rescuing from whom?”

“We’re
rescuing the crew from certain death.  This time tomorrow
Ephialtes
is going to be the most expensive tomb ever built.  If we can get a team
on there we can save the crew.  The difficulty will be persuading the crew
that that is our intention.”

Bobby
thought.  “I’m guessing there’s some stuff here that you’re not telling
me.”

“Of course,
and I apologise for that.  I can’t tell you now but in the next few hours
it will be obvious.  The point is this; we will need to get a team to
Ephialtes
and they will need to know what they’re doing.  It’s a rescue mission,
plain and simple, but those being rescued may not see it that way.”

“Okay,” said
Bobby, “I think I understand.”

“It will
become clear,” said Foveaux, “but we do need your help, and we need it as soon
as possible.”

“Okay,” said
Bobby.  “I’m on my way.”

Ephialtes
had used its
ion engines to reverse its attitude in space.  It then fired up its main
NFJ engine.  The braking action had slowed the great ship down to a speed
at which the gravity of Mars would capture it and hold it in its orbit.

Askel had
triple checked her locked down software but had still been jittery about firing
up the engine.  It had to be done.  The speed of
Ephialtes
on
its outbound journey was so great that not even mighty Ares himself would have
been able to stop her.  If they hadn’t slowed down the ship would have
skipped past Mars and carried on toward the outer limits of the solar system
and deep space beyond.

The firing
had passed without incident and afterwards the ship was once again turned
around to face its destination.  The bridge afforded a panoramic forward
view of the rust-coloured planet which loomed large before them.

The lower
speed - as well as ultimately ensuring their survival - afforded
Askel the opportunity to test some of the other important systems.  She
had gone to the starboard day room to ask for volunteers.  When none were
forthcoming she had made a formal request to
Soward
through Lucero.

“I need a few
commanders.  Three, at least.  I’m going to run through a simulated
drop,” she had said to Lucero.

“Why do you
need commanders if it’s a simulation?”

“The drop is
simulated.  I’d like to do a full rehearsal of everything else, including
opening the drop-bay doors.”

Lucero
thought.  “Why?  Why can’t you just sim the whole thing?”

“I could, of
course.  But I want to run through the exercise with as much real data as
possible.  You know that the malware that destroyed
Otus
was adept at feeding back phony data.  I want to see these systems
physically working.  And I’d like real human feedback from the pilots,
too.”

Lucero
paced.  “Well, it sounds fine to me.  Just drop by one of the day
rooms and pick up some volunteers.”

“I tried
that.”

“Oh,” said
Lucero.  “Leave it with me.”

Soward
had provided Steiner, Meades and Jennifer W
Hayes.  None seemed particularly happy with the assignment, but they
listened patiently while Askel talked them through it.

“I will run
data through the systems for a deployment over Marineris.  Telemetry data
for
Ephialtes
will be
simmed
, time will be
simmed
, but you will be using the physical systems in your
dropships.  That is to say the dropships and drones will be fully armed,
and you will run through the full launch procedure.  The bay doors will
open - that is one of the prime tests we are running here - and
you will then launch, but that part of the test will be simulation again.”

“So is this
sim or actual?” said Meades.

“It’s a
hybrid test,” said Lund.  “I need data on a physical run-through of
the arming procedure and the opening of the bay doors.  I’ve adjusted the
sim to accept actual data for those parts of the test.  Obviously, we
don’t want to launch out here, but apart from that I want this to be as close
as we can get to a physical launch.  Any other questions?”

“I have a
question,” said Steiner.

“Go on,” said
Lund.

“Why me?”
said Steiner, with fake theatricality.  Meades and Hayes laughed.

Lund took
some steps closer to Steiner.  “It’s your job, commander.  Is that a
problem?”

Steiner
flashed Lund a shit-eating grin.  “No, ma’am, not a problem at all.”

“Good,” said
Lund.  “Let’s go.”

Once the
commanders were in their dropships the truculence disappeared.  Commanders
tended to be task oriented and once they had something to do they focused on it
and gave it their full attention.  The drill they were performing they had
done many times before, either
simmed
in situ in
their dropships or in IVRs back on Earth.  This case was unusual in that
it was a full rehearsal for a drop with real-world overlays.  In the
sims
they would routinely skip over the arming process
once they had programmed their loadouts.  The simple reason for that was
that arming a dropship and its drones took anything up to half an hour. 
The system was automated, so all the pilots had to do was sit and wait. 
In a simulated drop they could skip through that part.  What was happening
now was real - the dropships and their drones were actually
being armed by maintenance drones.  It made sense from an operational
point of view - wars are not fought in simulators, after
all - but it was tedious to be a part of.

Steiner
considered chatting over the com to Meades and Hayes but he didn’t know them
well and decided against it.  Instead he reviewed the data coming over his
com and HUD relating to the arming process.  As far as he could see it all
looked good.  His dropship would be fully armed in ten or fifteen
minutes.  All other readings looked good, too.

Lund was
monitoring the procedure.  She had data feeds from all three dropships,
all of the drones on board each ship and all of the maintenance drones. 
She had video feeds from the dropship cabins and the drones, too.  She
monitored these carefully to see the correlation between what was physically
happening and what the data said was happening.  It all tallied.

When the
armoury drones had finished their work Lund spoke over the com to Steiner,
Meades and Hayes.  “This is Lund, all my readings are good here, please
confirm your status.”

“Good here,”
said Steiner, and the others followed suit.

“I’m
depressurising the drop-bays,” said Lund.

“Acknowledged,”
came the replies.

“Dropships
four through six, please prepare for launch.”

“Preparing.”

Steiner ran
through some final checks and made some last minute adjustments.  He knew
that Meades and Hayes would be doing the same thing.

Lund came over
the com again.  “Drop-bays are now fully purged, standby for bay
doors to open.”

Lund ran the
sequence that would open the doors.  As she did so she moved on to the
launch program.  She knew this part of the process was to be simulated so
she had to oversee it manually.  Casually glancing back to the door
opening sequence she was surprised to see it read ‘Complete’ when the visuals
she had from the dropship cockpits clearly showed that the doors had not moved.

“Commander
Hayes, can you please confirm for me that your drop-bay door has not
opened?” Lund said over the com.

“Confirmed,”
said Hayes.  “The bay door remains closed.”

“Steiner,
Meades.  Can you please confirm that your bay doors have not opened
either?”

“Confirmed,”
came both replies.

Lund ran the
door opening sequence again.  As she looked at her display the data showed
the doors opening while the visuals showed they were not.  For a moment
she thought she must be confusing the sim and actual part of the test. 
She switched the entire system over to manual.

“Commanders
Steiner, Meades and Hayes, please do not do anything until ordered.  We’re
temporarily running a fully live system here.  I’m just chasing down some
bugs, please stand by,” said Lund.  Now fully in control of the system she
ran the door opening sequence again.

Nothing
happened.

Lund flipped
the system back to the simulation and ran the kill sequence.

“Commanders,
this exercise is terminated, please stand by for further instruction. 
You’ve no breathable air in the bays at the moment so sit tight.”

“I’m glad
that wasn’t a complete waste of time,” Steiner said to Meades over the com.

Lund
repressurised
the bays.

“That’s it
guys for now, thanks for your time,” she said.

Askel Lund
was passive by nature and not taken to storming either into or out of
rooms.  For this particular instance she had decided at some low animal
level to make an exception.  She entered the day room at a fair clip and
launched into her tirade immediately.

“This is a
ship of war, about to enter into theatre.  Below us will be a hostile
planet, prepared if necessary to kill us.  We face a common enemy
together.  I have built you the best ship I could in order that we should
prevail over our enemies.  The ship is strong.  The crew - you - are
well trained and equipped.  We are more than equal to the task at hand.

“One amongst
you is trying to subvert this mission.  One amongst you actively wants us
to fail.  You have succeeded in destroying
Otus
but you will not succeed here.  I will find you - we will
find you - and you will be held to account for the wrong you
have done us.”

The room was
silent but for the short panting breaths Lund was taking when she’d finished.

A commander
stepped forward.  “Now listen here, ma’am, I don’t take kindly to being
called a -”

Askel cut him
off.  “Traitor?  I don’t like it either.  But until we find who
it is you are all under suspicion.”

“Excuse me,
Dr Lund,” said Foley, “I think you mean
we
are all under suspicion.”

He looked at
her pointedly.

“I know where
I stand,” said Lund.  “I’m the only one I trust.  Look around
you.  Someone on this ship - one of the commanders on this
ship - is working for our enemies.”

She turned
about and left.

Kostovich had
noticed an interesting phenomenon.  As he looked at the clock on his
terminal counting down to zero he had no sense that the crucial moment was
approaching.  When there were ten minutes left, it seemed that ten minutes
was enough for an entire lifetime.  Ten whole minutes!  The luxury!

The momentous
task, when it was ten minutes away, seemed as though it may have been ten
months, or ten years away.  It didn’t seem, somehow, to be
immediate.  But the
really
curious thing was this; the phenomenon
repeated itself at every milestone.  At five minutes it appeared that five
minutes was broadly equivalent to infinite time.  Kostovich waited and
waited for 00:00:00 to roll around but the clocked kept ticking languorously
down, each second slowly passing like a season in childhood.

When the
clock hit one minute remaining Kostovich felt almost serene.  He was aware
that he had fixated on the clock and that that may have had the effect of some
sort of meditation.  Each second had filled his consciousness to the
exclusion of all other things and now he was feeling mildly disoriented as the
countdown entered the final ten seconds.

He heard
himself speaking as if he was hearing somebody else, aware yet not aware that
he was saying the words, “Are the missiles prepared and ready for launch?”

“Missiles
ready,” came Walton’s reply, inevitably, like the next beat in a piece of
music.

“Give me the
range on
Ephialtes
,” Kostovich said to Baldwin, whose reply, like
Walton’s, seemed to hit a perfect rhythm.

“
Ephialtes
in range in three seconds.”

As the clock
flipped over from the amber coloured 00:00:01 to the green 00:00:00 it seemed
that time really did stop.  Kostovich thought this was the only time that
would ever exist that would feature the universe lined up in this particular
way; that everything was exactly where it needed to be right now in order for
right now to happen.

“Fire the
missiles,” he said.

“Missiles
away,” said Walton, her voice now curious for its ordinariness.  She was
no longer his musical foil but an assistant imparting useful information to
him.  He had snapped out of his trance and had to focus on what he was
doing, which was the most important task he had ever been entrusted with. 
It was his job to save the planet.  Try as he might, he could find no way
of arguing that that was overstating the case.  No, simply put it was his
job, on this day, at this hour, to save the planet.

“Roger that,”
he said in reply to Walton, who was momentarily confused.  Who says ‘Roger
that’ to someone who is in the same room as them?

Back in her cabin
Askel tried to calm down, but she was heaving with rage.  For most of the
journey she had felt that she was on top of the situation.  Now that she
had been beaten by the saboteur one more time she was deflated.  She knew
the mission was imperilled all the while the saboteur was out there.  She
had been so wrapped up in the idea of outsmarting and defeating whoever it was
that she hadn’t given time to considering what the stakes were.  Her life
and the lives of the rest of the crew were in imminent danger.  She knew
she was smart but she didn’t know how long she would be able to keep
outsmarting an enemy she could not identify.  Maybe they were dumb and
lucky.  Maybe she was.  She found it hard to bear.