Polity 2 - Hilldiggers (49 page)

The Captain looked up directly into the Bridge camera. In a timeless gesture he held up his fist and extended his mid finger, then returned his attention to his screens. Gazing at his own screens Harald observed that Harvester and Musket were parting company with Stormfollower. He also observed that Soderstrom was running a security check on Musket, and as yet had found no attempts at sabotage. The sudden violent surge of anger he felt caught him off guard. Desperately trying to control it, he found himself panting and tightly gripping his chair arms. But the feeling would not go away, and in the end there seemed only one way to assuage it: he must sacrifice something to his rage. On making that decision he felt some degree of control return, so he linked in again to the systems of Stormfollower, then struggled with a quartered eye-screen as he programmed in the alterations he had to make. After a moment he observed the blue-red flames of the steering thrusters igniting down one side of the crippled hilldigger. Finally he spoke to the Bridge of that ship again—and to Musket too, so the Captain there might know the cost of rebellion.

“Captain Cobe,” he began, with gritted teeth. When the Captain did not look up, Harald continued. “If you check your navigation control, you will see that I have input a program to your steering thrusters. They will sufficiently change your trajectory to take you down towards Sudoria. If Combine does not destroy you first, you will enter atmosphere in eight hours' time and begin to burn up. What remains of you and your ship should impact the Brak sea only a little while after that.” Cobe looked up at last. “Harald, out.”

The downsizing of Fleet after the War and the almost explosive growth of Orbital Combine has caused a power shift in Sudorian politics. But a hundred years of dominance and tradition is not something easy to put aside. For all this time the social and economic system of Sudoria had been a support industry for Fleet, and at the end of the War almost one-third of Sudorians were either serving in Fleet itself or working in the orbital war industries. Fleet began to lose its grip on power when Corisanthe Main was essentially removed from its control by Parliament and new high-tech industries began to burgeon from there. Fleet's grip was further loosened by the simple fact that people were tired of war, and rather liked the idea of making some money and better lives for themselves. Conscription continued, but since the Brumallians had been bombed into near oblivion, few saw any further point in it, and meanwhile GDS became disinclined to hunt down draft dodgers. Fleet power has therefore been on the wane for some time, but the people of Sudoria must remain forever vigilant. Like some big beast in its death throes, Fleet might strike out again and, with the hilldiggers still under its control, its last bite might kill us all. Though the very idea of civil war was unthinkable twenty years ago, now it is a very real possibility.

—Uskaron

Director Gneiss

He observed Stormfollower first hanging crippled in space, then being sent on a new trajectory by its steering thrusters. The injured ship would pass close to Defence Platform Seven, which he felt would only need to keep its shields up as a precaution, since it struck him as unlikely that it was a target. However, Harald might still have control of Stormfollower's weapons, so should Combine send rescue craft to intercept it? It seemed obvious that Tlaster Cobe had taken a similar route to the one Orvram Davidson intended to take. Gneiss wondered if the latter Captain might have changed his mind now. Perhaps not, for the nature of his sabotage was subtle and might not even be found out.

The other two hilldiggers, Harvester and Musket, were now pounding away at Corisanthe II, whilst Wildfire and Resilience were together hitting Corisanthe III. Gneiss had warned Glass to keep sufficient weapons free for the moment those three shield generators on Resilience went down. Taking one ship out of play there would give some relief to Glass's station, though it still remained in danger of being destroyed.

The Director now turned his attention to Ironfist and Desert Wind. Both ships were rapidly heading down into the gap Fleet had created, and Gneiss contemplated the loose thread that could completely unravel Combine's defences, for putting those two vessels below the level of the platforms would take them out of the firing arc of Combine's big guns. From there Harald would be able to steadily work his way around the planet, obliterating every Defence Platform and perhaps much of Combine's industrial base and infrastructure as well. Of course it would not come to that, because at some point wavering members of the Oversight Committee would be contemplating the destruction of everything they had helped build and authorise the deployment of gravtech weapons, despite collateral damage caused to the planet below. Gneiss naturally would then vote against the committee majority.

When hungry I deny it, when thirsty I don't drink. All the pressure forcing me to do what I must do, I counter, and so at last manage to remain me.

He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed at his temples. Did he want Fleet to wipe out all the Defence Platforms and knock Orbital Combine from its place in the sky? Did he so abhor that stagnation to which Dalepan had referred while drugged out of his mind that he was prepared to countenance the destruction of Combine to end it? With robotic precision he had always carried out his duties as they were considered appropriate by Oversight. He did not stint in that respect, yet at his core he felt almost despair at the prospect of his own organisation repelling Fleet—and as a consequence his own situation here remaining unchanged. It was a dilemma he could not resolve—one that had held him in stasis ever since that time in Ozark One when he had first felt that other will. He gazed at his screens, trying to find some way out without losing himself. A contact icon lit, and he automatically opened it.

“I've received a rather strange message from one of Chairman Duras's staff,” said Dalepan, who was gazing out at him with an expression twisted by some strange emotion.

“And the message is?”

“Apparently Parliament has reviewed the evidence from Brumal and found it sufficient to implicate Fleet in abuse of power. In the eyes of Parliament, we are now the innocent parties in this dispute.”

“That is so gratifying to know. I'll try to remember it when I find myself attempting to breathe vacuum.” He paused, assessing. “But I have yet to hear any strange message.”

“Apparently the Chairman now wishes this Brumallian evidence to be presented to the Oversight Committee. He wants that Brumallian ship to come up here and deliver it to us. His tone was all rather low-key, as if he hoped the whole business would be approved without much notice.”

Curious. Gneiss leaned back in his chair. In the midst of a struggle where such evidence now mattered not one wit, the Chairman wanted it brought here.

“Inform them that if the Brumallian ship approaches this station without permission—and it does not have my permission—it will be destroyed. Then I want you to contact the Chairman for me. Inform me at once when you have arranged that.”

His response was precisely what it should be, yet he knew that even in the midst of the distractions of battle he wanted the Chairman to give him sufficient reason to allow that ship to come here.

Something to stir the waters?

The Chairman must have been ready waiting, for after only a moment Dalepan looked up. “I have him for you.” The screen blanked for a second, then Chairman Duras appeared.

“What can I do for you, Director Gneiss?” he enquired.

“You could explain why, right in the midst of a battle, you feel it so necessary to get evidence to us of Fleet's complicity in recent events.”

“As Chairman, I need only make my explanations to Parliament,” Duras replied primly. “You previously assured me that Orbital Combine bows to the will of Parliament.”

Almost automatically, Gneiss shot back, “Is it genuinely the will of Parliament for a Brumallian ship to bring this evidence here?”

“Parliament agrees that this evidence should be presented to you as soon as conveniently possible.”

“Sending such a ship here now would be most inconvenient. I am not inclined, whilst we fight for our lives here, to have any Brumallians aboard this station.” Gneiss felt a sinking sensation as he realised he did indeed possess the power to deny the Chairman's request.

“But no Brumallians as such will be joining you there.” Duras smiled tightly. “Those who will take the evidence aboard Corisanthe Main are your own employee Yishna, her siblings Orduval and Rhodane, and the Polity Consul Assessor. I believe that Combine Oversight has shown itself anxious to discuss some matters with David McCrooger?”

“Yes, you're quite right.” Only one valid objection remained. “However, there are many security matters to consider, the foremost being that in our present situation we cannot safely allow a Brumallian ship to dock here.”

“It will not be necessary for it to dock. Yishna's inter-station shuttle is aboard it.”

Gneiss paused, a feeling of excitement, almost joy, suffusing him. “Then in that case I must accede to the will of Parliament. Send us your evidence. Send us the ship.”

“Always a pleasure,” said Duras, giving a token bow before he signed off.

“Dalepan, tell me immediately that ship launches.”

“It has already launched,” the OCT replied. “Yishna will be here within the hour.”

Gneiss sat back and absorbed that news. Within the hour three of the four children of Elsever Strone would be here aboard this station.

“I knew your mother, you know.”

Gneiss remembered gazing across at the brilliant child Yishna Strone and wondering just how he could have uttered those words so casually. Elsever herself had been brilliant, beautiful, and Oberon Gneiss had loved her from the first moment he saw her, while she had reciprocated with a tolerant affection and often outrageous flirting. At that time occupying the position of Military Director of the civilian contingent, under the oversight of Fleet Command, Gneiss knew he had to be very careful how he related to other station staff. But when it seemed Elsever was getting bored with their never-quite-consummated liaison, he knew he had to do something.

He put down his next actions to a kind of madness that seemed to be growing throughout the station at that time, and which now expressed itself in the strange cults and factions that had evolved up here. Here aboard Corisanthe Main they had seemed disconnected from the War, a separate enclave where the rules just did not apply. So he had responded to her flirting, dined with her in one of the military refectories, then invited her back to his cabin. They had talked about their precious charge and about the studies that were being conducted on it. Taking a risk for the first time since his childhood, Gneiss accepted drinks from the bottle of station-distilled alcohol she had brought along with her. They had ended up in bed.

The sex had been...difficult at first, and his gratitude to Elsever—for never pointing out her undoubted knowledge of his virginity before their encounter—only increased his love of her. As their relationship progressed, a deeper madness seemed to infect him, and he revealed to her things he had never revealed to anyone else. They spent hours in his cabin talking, drinking, making love. Then one day he took her to his office and showed her his biggest secret of all. Before being made Director of the civilian contingent, he had been Military Director during that period when the Ozark Cylinders were being built. It being within his power, he had ordered private access to one cylinder to be built for him. He showed her, took her down in his lift to Ozark One where, in zero gravity, they stripped naked but for their breathing masks and had sex. As if the Worm had been waiting for the opportunity, it caused a fumarole breach precisely at that time.

“It touched me!” she had screamed.

He felt the horror, for it had touched him too. Yet, the ensuing physical examinations showed nothing, and subsequent tests revealed but one change: Elsever Strone was pregnant. Something changed utterly then: Elsever drifted away from him, and seemed to fold herself around the process of gestation. Whenever he saw her, she always looked frightened but seemed as unable to communicate the reasons behind this, just as he seemed unable to communicate his disturbing feelings to her. Then, after the birth, came her suicide. With relentless exactitude, Gneiss relocated all the personnel who had been involved in the tests and the investigation. Then, over a period of years, he changed the records: lost those bits about him and her being naked in Ozark One without escort, also lost most references to himself.

It had touched her.

She had known what it had done, and somehow that had been too much to bear. That she used the explosive to destroy her body might be due to shame—perhaps she didn't want anyone to know what it had done to her. He sometimes wondered if maybe it had not wanted anyone knowing what had been done to her.

Yes, Yishna, I knew your mother, because I am your father—at least in part.

Gneiss returned to his consoles, and to his duty.

McCrooger

Acceleration placed a heavy boot on my chest and crushed me down into the living mattress of the couch. I felt something pop in my lungs and coughed salty fluid into my mouth, but didn't bother to check if it was blood. I lay there labouring for each breath and wondering if I should just stop breathing and let IF21 and the mutualite take over and do all the work. I didn't, however, because that seemed just too much like giving up. Finally the foot came off my chest and I became weightless. Quickly pushing myself across the room, I forced open a container—something like a clam extruded from the wall—and removed items from inside it. The gun Duras had given me went underneath my foamite shirt, and spare ammunition clips went into various pockets. Hopefully I would have no use for the weapon. I then turned and pushed off towards the exit from the room. While in mid-air I heard a vicious smack, then a sound like hail hitting a tin roof, and knew we were once again approaching the orbital battle lines.

Reaching the sphincter door I heaved my way through it. In the corridor beyond I saw Rhodane and Yishna, obviously having come from their acceleration couches, circling each other like wary hounds. Though Rhodane claimed to be just about clear of the Worm's influence, I wondered if she was being entirely candid. If that could be true of any of us.