Adiamante (31 page)

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Authors: Jr. L. E. Modesitt

BOOK: Adiamante
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“No tyranny is so oppressive as a society truly based on innate ability,” said Kemra, “and still you do not see that. Even your draffs have seen that.”
“It doesn't work that way. Not in any society. Someone is always in control. That control may be direct or indirect,
strong or weak. It may be dictatorial or representative or both, or some of each mixed with anarchy, but there will always be some form of elite. Your choices generally range from an elite based on heredity, physical strength, cunning, luck, or intelligence. What you're saying is that when it becomes clear to the less able members of a society that they will never be part of the elite, they feel oppressed, and they equate that feeling of oppression with tyranny. Here … there is an elite, and there's a high price for belonging to that elite. That price doesn't fall equally on every generation or even every century, but even the everyday prices are high. That's one reason for comptime.”
“With all your abilities,” Kemra pushed into the conversation as though she hadn't wanted to hear what I had said, “you demis believe you are the peak of human perfection—true demigods. What if there is more to human intelligence and ability than what your skills can measure?”
“That's a strange argument coming from a cyb-sense culture which bases power, position, and control of resources almost solely on the possession or demonstration of primarily mental skills.”
“Coordinator! Majer Henslom has the four hundred cybs and a dozen officers from the landers marshalled up. They're armed and headed toward the locial center. One of the force leaders is marshalling those at the south residential block.”
“Thanks!” I linked into the main nets, at all levels, and preempted all traffic. Coordinators get to do that. They also get to suffer the consequences. “This is Coordinator Ecktor. The Construct has been violated. Armed marcybs are attacking Deseret locial. The Construct has been violated. Complete final emergency evacuations of all locials. Complete final emergency evacuations of all locials. Complete hardening, and close down. All demis stand by for defense node activation. All demis stand by for defense node activation.”
Then I pulsed to Keiko. “Emergency evacuation. Close down and head for the bullets.”
Next came uppernet and Elanstan.
“Power up for immediate defense net activation. The cybs have launched a ground attack on Deseret locial. I've put out the call for node activation.”
“The boards are greening,” pulsed Elanstan. “We're already at twenty percent.” There was a pause. “You're sure?”
“Absolutely sure. We've got armed marcybs here and in Ellay, although the Ellay troops are running slightly behind the ones here. What do you have on your screens?”
“All hulls are in full-power status, and their screens are radiating into the purple. No acceleration, and no power concentrations aft.”
“Let me know if it changes. Priority override.”
“Stet, Coordinator.”
I dropped off that segment and repeated the evacuation notice process with the Deseret locial net. While I could have asked Keiko, when time counts, it's faster to do it yourself. Then I dropped onto the maintenance level and used the Coordinator's keys to freeze all the locial's system controls and shunt them out to the defense control center.
“Let's go!” I snapped at Kemra.
“Go?”
I took a last look, and it would indeed be a last look, out the wide windows of the Coordinator's office. Outside, the pines waved in the stiff wind, and puffy white clouds scudded toward the eastern peaks. The streets were empty, but the streets of the locials were never that crowded, and I doubted that the cybs would even bother with time-comparative scans.
“Your former compatriots are about to begin their effort to wipe out society and most technology on Old Earth.” I headed for the door. “If you wish to have a momentary
and firsthand view, you can certainly stay. Otherwise, I suggest you follow me.”
She followed.
I took the stairs two at a time. There's a time for decorum and a time to run like a crazed vorpal's after you, except a crazed vorpal's an oxymoron. This was the time to run.
Fast as I was, the building was clear—handling the shunts had taken several minutes—all the way down to the sublevels.
From the third sublevel, we went down the concealed stairs in the back of the lower power boards. Kemra's eyes were wide, but she was breathing heavily even before we came out on the narrow platform where Keiko stood, waiting, beside the bullet shuttle cars, shimmering in the lights of the admin building's sublevels.
“Everyone else took the first bullet,” my aide said.
“Good. The building looks clear. You left the doors open for the main bullets? We'll hold the power as long as we can. All systems are shunted out to the control center. Draffs?”
Keiko nodded. “We can't tell, but we estimate above ninety-five percent clear.”
I touched the plate on the side of the front car. As the door slid open, I gestured to Kemra, who stood there wide-eyed. “Get in.”
“You never …”
“Get in—unless you want to get fried when your fleet's weapons hit.”
Kemra slid into the front seat and I took the seat next to her. Keiko took the one behind us.
The doors slid shut and the bullet shuttles whined forward and dropped into the dark tube. Only a faint red light illuminated the interior.
“What about all the draffs? Are you just leaving them to get incinerated?”
“No. Except for the handful necessary to maintain the locial, I had everything evacuated earlier. Didn't it seem quiet when you came in? The others left while we were discussing your ultimatum—except for a dozen or so on the bullet before us. There might be two or three techs on the ones after us, but they had warning, and I can't wait now.”
I had to use the boost to get to uppernet.
“Elanstan. Status on the cybs?”
“They're easing into lower orbit, at five percent power.” A flash image seared at me, and I nodded. “Power drop … appears to be a glide and decel. They're dropping into position. Holding now. No action yet.”
I swallowed. How long would Gibreal hold his ships? How long would synchronization take? Five minutes? A stan?
“How long will it take Gibreal to synchronize the fleet once he's in lower orbit?” I asked Kemra.
“How did you—”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes, longer if he's going to use particle beams.”
I went back uppernet. “The subcommander says it'll be ten. Don't be hair-trigger, but don't take that as a hard schematic.”
“We understand,” answered Rhetoral. “They're not stabilized in lower orbit yet, anyway.”
I took a deep breath and checked the bullet. Only another minute before we slid into the control center.
I was moving as soon as the bullet's door was wide enough for me to squeeze through. At the top of the platform steps, I glanced back at the tunnel, where the blast doors remained poised to close—as were four sets along the ten-klick tunnel. Then I scrambled up the steps and through the second set of locks. I didn't look back to see if Kemra and Keiko followed. There wasn't anywhere else for them to go.
Even with most of the emergency squad in place, the control center was still stark. It wasn't designed for large numbers of people, or for long-term isolation—totally isolated, it wouldn't function for more than a few weeks. The power and ventilation were adequate for years, but the more human necessities such as food and recycling-disposal of wastes weren't integrated as totally self-contained operations.
At the center screens were Arielle and Crucelle. Neither looked up, although they had certainly felt me come in.
“Link boards?”
“Dorgan, ser.” The thin-haired and thin-faced man nodded at me from the screen at the end.
“Nets?”
Wiane glanced up.
The five of us should have been able to handle the system, but in case we couldn't, there were backups—Liseal, Keiko, Dyncuun, Sebestien, Vieria, and two others from Crucelle's group that I didn't know by name.
Keiko ushered Kemra to the left rear corner of the center and half-gestured, half-pushed the subcommander into a straight-backed chair. Then Keiko took the last remaining standby screen position.
I dropped into the empty center chair in front of the representational screen that depicted Old Earth, the asteroid satellite stations, and the Vereal Union fleet—which appeared to have stabilized in something slightly closer to Old Earth than a geocentric orbit.
The locators were my first priority.
“Ecktor—you on line?” asked Rhetoral as I was verifying that the cybs had stabilized their ships.
“That's affirmative. I have the cybs stable and commencing power build-up. Do you see any acceleration? Interrogative cyb acceleration.”
“That's negative.”
“Hold on net.”
“Holding net.”
I took a deep breath,
knowing
that the cybs were about to attack, but unable to bring up the net until they did
something,
knowing that the net response would be slower than the weapons, despite all the advisories that Keiko and I had sent.
The representative screen flashed, as did red lights.
“Unidentified torps launched! Torps launched!” Rhetoral announced.
I went into the command line of uppernet.
“THE CONSTRUCT HAS BEEN VIOLATED. THE CONSTRUCT HAS BEEN VIOLATED. OLD EARTH IS UNDER ATTACK. UNDER ATTACK. STEP-UP AND LINK TO DEFENSE NET. STEP-UP AND LINK TO DEFENSE NET. URGENT! URGENT! LINK TO DEFENSE NET!”
I set the warning to repeat at three minute intervals for fifteen minutes, but before I finished the web had begun to hum. The web hummed, and I shivered into step-up, as the glow around me—around each demi anywhere on Old Earth—built.
“It's slow!” came from Rhetoral, his words seemingly dragging out in realtime.
The locators pinpointed the maroon-dashed torp tracks, and each of the asteroid stations flared purple-white as its screens went up. Almost simultaneously defense beams slashed toward the accelerating cyb torps. Where the beams intersected a torp, a bright star flashed on the screen. Above ground each explosion would have appeared as a star-point, even in mid-day, but I hoped no one was above ground to watch, not near any locial, anyway.
Despite the defense beams, some torps in the first two waves were going to slip under the net, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“Line one—in.” The equatorial defense band, glimmering purple-white, shimmered into place.
Already, I could sense minute flickers along the net,
where weaker individual demis were unable to take the strain and went down in mindblazed death.
The control center was filled with sweat and fear, but no one spoke. I continued to hold the ground focus, as Elanstan and Rhetoral held the station foci where the net energy coruscated into the planetary defense bands.
“Band one stable and holding; shifting to band two,” gasped Elanstan.
“Cybs launching attack vessels. Launching attack vessels,” added Rhetoral.
Maroon dots appeared—fanning out from one of the twelve adiamante hulls hanging over Old Earth.
They were idiots to try that, but they'd been idiots all along—blind idiots, and we'd all pay for it.
The lights flared red, and I could sense the particle beams.
“Line two—now!” I snapped.
“Line two—in.” The second concentration of power built, eased into position along the second axis. “Running ninety percent,” Elanstan sounded weak already, and that bothered me, shield as she was. Not that we had any options.
Through the net, I could sense the power building, and the storm nexi changing, and the unholy mess that would follow.
“Bands three and four!” I ordered.
“Line three—in.”
“Line four—in.”
The agony in their voices tore at me, but we needed the entire shield—now, and
now
almost wasn't enough as the twelve ship-powered beams slammed into the net. More flickers through the link nodes told me of hundreds more demis dying, minds and souls shredded.
I forced my thoughts and concentration back to the representative screen that showed the particle beams splashing off the enhanced magfield that was our only defense.
“Energy resonation.” That went to Crucelle and Dyncuun, who had meshed with the older demi.
The reflected energy should have set up unfavorable wave harmonics within the cyb ships—should have—but we didn't have the scanners to verify that.

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