Adiamante (22 page)
Authors: Jr. L. E. Modesitt
“Yes, ser.” No questions, just repeated orders to her squad, and within instants they were inside. The cybs on the trampled lawn looked stunned, blank, as if a ruisine had become a rhion.
My next orders went to Borin. “We'll set the squad down in the park west of the admin building. Then we'll lift for orbit. The Vereal flag.”
“Yes, ser.” Borin's eyes widened, but that was all, as he eased the shuttle upward and to the west with barely a shiver.
“Lictaer,” I said aloud for the benefit of her squad, although she had doubtless caught the net instructions. “We'll be putting you down west of the admin building. I'd appreciate it if you'd clear the area and post a guard on the building.”
“Yes, ser.” She offered a quick and grim smile.
I dropped onto the vacant second's couch and let Borin pilot the magshuttle across the park.
A few murmurs came from the restraint squad crowded into the shuttle.
“ ⦠can't believe how he disarmed that cyb ⦔
“ ⦠see now how they forced The Flight ⦔
“Quiet,” ordered Lictaer. “Once we clear the shuttle, Heulin, you, Gersner, and Felin hold the south ports. Jinser ⦔ She detailed the guard assignments for the admin building.
I scanned the known Vereal frequencies, but could pick up nothing.
“Coming down, ser,” Borin reported.
“Get ready to disembark!” ordered Lictaer.
Borin eased the shuttle down so that it did not quite touch the grass, and Lictaer's squad hustled out.
The dark-eyed Lictaer looked at me from the ground. “You're sure you don't need us?”
“Not here. But it wouldn't hurt to bring up another squad and strengthen the guards around the admin building for a few hours. Just in case I'm wrong.”
“We can do that, ser.” She nodded. “Is that all?”
“For now. We need to lift clear.”
With a wave she moved back and motioned to the restraint squad. They headed east across the browned grass as we lifted away. I was in the second's couch before the hatch was fully closed, fastening the restraints.
“Ecktor! You're insane!” Crucelle screamed in on the uppernet even before the shuttle door sealed. “They'll fry half the locial.”
“Good! Then you and K'gaio can activate the system before we lose forty percent of our population.”
A moment of stillness crossed the netweb.
“You are insane ⦠.” Crucelle net-murmured again, his formality and concern warring within him.
“No,” answered another personâArielle. “He's acting within the Construct, barely, and hoping to force them to break it, and you know why, Crucelle. It won't work. The cybs won't react that way because they'll understand that's what Ecktor wants, and they'll back away from it.”
If she were right, anything I did was wrong. If I followed the traditional Construct pattern, we'd lose half the planet. If I bent the Construct, the cybs would still wait to attack in force, and we'd lose half the planet.
“I hope you're right,” offered Crucelle.
“We'd do better if I'm wrong, dear.” Her transmission went directly to me. “Sorry, Ecktor.”
So was I.
“Home in on the cyb fleet,” I told Borin, “the flagship if you can pick it out.”
“Yes, ser. We've got them plotted.” His eyes tightened, and I was pressed back into the couch as the shuttle accelerated.
I linked back into the uppernet, with a full override, with alarm, for K'gaio.
“That much noise was not necessary, Ecktor.” Her net voice was the same smooth and oiled tone as always.
“I'm headed for the
Gibson,
the cyb's flagship.” I explained the events of the day. “ ⦠that means that, if we get blasted or fried, you're Coordinator. It also means they've broken the Construct. Under any definition, murder of a planetary executive in an unarmed shuttlecraft is an act of aggression.”
Gibson,
the cyb's flagship.” I explained the events of the day. “ ⦠that means that, if we get blasted or fried, you're Coordinator. It also means they've broken the Construct. Under any definition, murder of a planetary executive in an unarmed shuttlecraft is an act of aggression.”
“You really do hate them, don't you?” she asked.
“No. I don't hate them at all. Except for being stupid,” I added. “At times, I hate the Construct. I hate a situation where thousands or millions have to die before we can act.”
“So ⦔ There was a pause. “I have to admire you, Ecktor, but it won't work. They'll be so impressed by your effrontery that they'll accept the insult, and we'll be right where we were.” She actually let some feeling enter the words.
“I have to try.”
“I'll stand by, but I'm not holding my breath.”
A momentary hiss, and the net was clear again.
I looked at the trussed and flat-eyed figure in the back of the passenger space, then toward Borin. “I can drop you off, Borin. I'm qualifiedâ”
“No, ser. This is my job.”
I slumped into the second pilot's couch. “Then I'm going to rest until we're close to the cybs.”
He was smooth, and I actually dozed for a time, while my body tried to recover from the strains I'd already put on it. My hands and arms were beginning to ache, as I had known they would.
“We're closing, ser.”
I stretched and sat up, too quickly, and bounced against the couch restraints in the infinitesimal gravity. After getting my mass and inertia under control, I checked the screens, but the oval shapes that were the cyb ships were more visible by their darkness than by their energy emissions. With their adiamante hulls, they were dark blots against the stars, with occasional energy bursts that represented comm exchanges between ships.
“I'll handle comm, Borin.”
“Fine by me, ser. Tell me what you want.”
I cleared my throat, then backtracked the burst frequencies the cybs had been using.
“Cyb-ship
Gibson,
this is Magshuttle Prime, bearing Old Earth Coordinator Ecktor. We are unarmed, and we are approaching to deliver a passenger. The passenger is one of your troopers who has violated Old Earth codes.”
Gibson,
this is Magshuttle Prime, bearing Old Earth Coordinator Ecktor. We are unarmed, and we are approaching to deliver a passenger. The passenger is one of your troopers who has violated Old Earth codes.”
“Approaching craft, please say again. Please say again.”
I repeated the whole spiel.
After a long pause, there was a burst of static, then a response. “Magshuttle Prime, you are cleared to lock one. Lock one will flash a green light ⦠a green light. If you are not optically equipped, please inform.”
“We've got it, Coordinator,” flicked Borin.
“We have the green light. Commencing approach to lock one this time.”
As we neared, the shuttle seemed like an ant at the base of the Barrier, lost against the featureless black that seemed to stretch forever in all directions, although the hull itself was slightly more than two klicks in length and a third of that in girth.
The open floor in lock one was big enough to engulf a dozen of our shuttles, and the screens showed three of the big cyb landers tucked in the back end.
“All the way in, ser?” asked Borin.
“All the way. It doesn't matter if the rhion eats you whole or merely chomps off your head.”
He laughed nervously, but slipped the shuttle into the middle of the space. The ship's gravity seemed to be about point three, and I wondered how much power they spent just maintaining that.
When the hissing and steaming fog settled and the lock registered full pressure, I slid open the hatch and stepped into the chill, carrying the trussed marcyb one-handed. In the low grav, it wasn't that much of a strain, and I wanted the effect.
A muscular and tall cyb officer stepped forwardâCommander Gorum. Behind him was a full squad of armed marcybs.
“I'm Commander Gorum.” Gorum's voice was harsh, and his unspoken net-commands reverberated through the huge docking lock. “Stand easy ⦠. Don't shoot unless he reaches for a weapon. Stand easy.”
“I recall, Commander. I appreciated meeting you at the Hybernium. I'm returning one of your marcybs. He assaulted a woman two days ago, and I asked Majer Henslom to have him returned to his ship. The majer saw fit to ignore that request. I don't know if the
Gibson
is where he belongs, but I'm sure you can work out the details.” I set the trussed figure on the cold deck. He'd probably get frostbite, but I wasn't feeling charitable. Then, I bowed. “I trust you'll take care of it, and, with your permission, we'll be departing.”
Gibson
is where he belongs, but I'm sure you can work out the details.” I set the trussed figure on the cold deck. He'd probably get frostbite, but I wasn't feeling charitable. Then, I bowed. “I trust you'll take care of it, and, with your permission, we'll be departing.”
I turned and walked back toward the open hatch of the magshuttle.
“Stand ⦠easy ⦔ reverberated Gorum's net-commands.
After stepping back into the shuttle, I triggered the hatch. “Ask for permission to depart.”
“Yes, ser,” answered Borin. “Vereal flag
Gibson,
this is Magshuttle Prime. Ready for departure this time.”
Gibson,
this is Magshuttle Prime. Ready for departure this time.”
“Wait one, MagPrime.”
“They're clearing the lock, ser,” Borin reported, as though he couldn't believe it.
K'gaio had been right, and I was both relieved and disappointed. Following the Construct wasn't easy, even when bending it.
“Evacuating lock, MagPrime. Please wait for clearance before lifting. Please wait for clearance before lifting.”
“Stet,
Gibson.
Standing by for clearance. Standing by for clearance.” Sweat poured down poor Borin's face.
Gibson.
Standing by for clearance. Standing by for clearance.” Sweat poured down poor Borin's face.
“Don't worry. They'll let us clear. They don't know why, but they will.”
“Lock doors are full open. You are cleared to lift. Maintain headway only until you clear the doors. Headway only.”
“Stet.”
The shuttle eased up and out into the darkness beyond the
Gibson,
away from the adiamante wall that held inconceivable power and hatred.
Gibson,
away from the adiamante wall that held inconceivable power and hatred.
Borin kept sweating until we were nearly two hundred klicks from the
Gibson.
Gibson.
“They're going to hate you, ser,” he finally offered, after wiping the dampness from his face yet another time.
“They already do. They hate all of us.” I yawned and stretched back out on the couch, fastening the restraints.
It was mid-afternoon when Borin approached the park. I'd used the net to check with Crucelle, but nothing had happened since I'd left, except a considerable increase in transmissions between the cyb ships and between their portable net units in Parwon and Ellay.
“Thank you,” I told Borin as I waited by the shuttle hatch.
“You're welcome. It was an interesting day, Coordinator.”
I wouldn't have used that word, but I nodded, and stepped out onto the browning grass. Borin was actually
hovering a quarter meter off the ground. He was good. That took some skill.
hovering a quarter meter off the ground. He was good. That took some skill.
I waved, and the door slid shut, and the shuttle lifted.
Miris stood by the west door to the admin building. Behind him stood five armed restraint squad members. I turned to one. “Any problems?”
“Not yet, Coordinator.”
“Good.”
“Impressive, Coordinator.”
“Thank you, Miris.”
“I meant it. You actually delivered the marcyb to their flagship?”
“What else could I do?” My eyes caught his.
He looked away. His eyes stayed on my back all the way up the stairs, but the waiting area was empty, except for Keiko. She stood as I approached, smoothing the dark gray vest.
“Did you have to do it yourself?”
“It was cheaper that way.” And it was.
“I hope so. Arielle reported that the upsurge in message traffic indicates a greater probability of hostility.”
I shook my head, then reached back and massaged my slightly sore neck. “They have to come up with a logical analysis. I
might
have gotten Elanstan some extra time.”
might
have gotten Elanstan some extra time.”
“There are cheese and fruit on your desk. I assume you didn't have time to eat?”
“No.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
“We can't have a Coordinator with thinking impaired by low blood sugar.”
I was probably impaired in all too many other ways, but I didn't protest. I just thanked her again and went into the office and ate everything on the tray.
Then I began to study the hard copy material neatly stacked and waiting for me. After three sheets, I reached for the linkboost. As it slipped in, my eyes dropped from the eastern peaks to the desk and the three hard copy
sheets that showed the projected peaking of the cyb fleet's power reserves within twenty-four hours.
sheets that showed the projected peaking of the cyb fleet's power reserves within twenty-four hours.
“Elanstan?” I asked.
“She's on Delta,” Rhetoral explained.
“How long before Delta's functional? We're running out of time.”
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