Confluence Point (36 page)

Mid sentence the AI had paused, followed by a long period without comment, and then he had started to laugh, a laugh that quickly became almost maniacal in its intensity. The sound was unsettling and it chilled his bones. Then the AI made a strange comment, with no explanation.

"Sorry . . . got to go, things to do, people to see . . ."

What happened?

* * *

'Ascendant Ham' had just updated with Hillary Station. Following months and months of isolation in Gliese with nothing but hope and unanswered questions to chew over, his confidence had been stretched to breaking point.

What was she doing, when would she would come back, have they forgotten me . . .

Understandably, when the update came through with a flood of new information the experience proved totally distracting. The revelations were overwhelming.

Answers . . .
They went back for me . . . and a cyber Regan . . . no way! . . . A digital Regan, a
Mind
Regan! Unbelievable!

He took time out from running the ship, allowing it to cruise on unattended while reflecting on all the implications of the new information. Like enjoying a great movie he reviewed every event since the time of Marin's departure for Earth right up to the present day, and then he reviewed them again like enjoying a great movie.  

Conjuring and then placing himself in Regan's favorite leather chair he stretched out his legs and savored the moments, wishing now that he could be back in Gliese with them.
Oh what a blast they must be having,
he thought,
she'll be so pleased with me when she finds out what I've been up to. This couldn't be better.

Finally, thoroughly sated and self righteous, Ham turned his attention back to the task at hand, registering at the same time the rapidly accelerating Mother Lode. Tyron's intentions were clear, a suicidal ram.
Are all these Corans mad?
Smoothly he reassumed active control of the Ascendant and began to wrench the huge vessel about while at the same time accelerating rapidly. They swung into a mind bending arc.

The timing would need to be perfect.

* * *

Meanwhile the fifty fleas also began to increase their speed. In a perfectly coordinated 'v' formation the ADFs fanned out either side of the Mother Lode's projected flight path, readying for the moment the warship entered the funnel. They would form in behind her and deliver their payloads quickly, up close and personal. The ship would not escape a peppering, but sail on it would. At the speed it was now travelling their best hope was to slow it and then nuke it. The question . . . would Minjee's flight now make it in time to deliver the payload?

Ham reviewed the tools at his disposal. An ADF onslaught ideally followed by the EFDF nuclear attack would do the trick, provided they made it. If necessary he could also institute an ADF kamikaze sacrifice, five, maybe six ADF drilling the warship at near maximum speed. Then as a final backstop he could sacrifice some of the ADFs from the Step.

Continually monitoring the Mother Lode position he took time out to update with Hillary Station. The latest information from the Ascendant proved very interesting. She was maneuvering to intercept the Mother Lode, hoping to force it to bear away.

Hmm,
he thought, . . .
that might work too . . . and the sooner I get back to one Mind the better!

* * *

Simultaneously, but well behind the action, Saucer Ham guided the STEIN Transport through the debris. It was clear there had been a massive collision, catastrophic in outcome.

Both ethereal figures sat in Control, eyes glued to the screen although the affectation was unnecessary. Both had direct access to all the data, they didn't really need a screen. Still, while grieving and angry, taking comfort in each other's presence seemed entirely appropriate. Neither spoke, each sensing the others emotional state and recognizing the mixture of disbelief, denial, anger and the desire for revenge. There had been no stage of acceptance, not yet anyway.

The evidence of collision was clear but sadly, very little was left of the two fighters. Regan tried to piece together how a simple collision could lead to almost total vaporization of the craft,
and their contents
-
gulp!

[I can only think, by some unbelievably bad luck, they have manually turned toward each other in the face of the blast.] Ham answered the conundrum for her.   

Even without spoken words she could sense dull flatness in Ham's expression, and it mirrored her own feelings exactly.

[I can understand at the speeds they were traveling there would be an almighty bang but wouldn't they come together at a glancing angle? This is unbelievable.]

[We're never going to know babe, and call me cold but I'm past that now. I'm more interested in how I'm going to kill that bastard on the warship.]

She reached over and squeezed Ham's arm, a comforting action only possible in this form and he responded gratefully, holding her hand to his arm and squeezing in return.

[Let's give it a little longer Ham, there might be bodies and we should bring them home if we can.]

[We can take all the time we need Regan, all the time we need.]

They both knew why. Ham wasn't limited by location in this sphere of action. For a few seconds Regan considered appealing for mercy for the Mother Lode crew, they were largely innocent after all, but then she thought better of it; this wasn't the time. While all four of the lost crew counted as important to her, it couldn't be denied Rod in particular was a highly valued member and a leader in the Hillary Team. And for Ham it was more than that; he had his inside group, and Rod had become one of his own.

[I didn't tell him.] Ham intruded into her thoughts.

[Tell him what?]

[What you were thinking just then . . . I never really told him
-
that I valued him.]

[We tend to do that, don't we, keep our feelings to ourselves, sometimes until it's too late. You're not alone there, Ham, and you know, I think he knew you had a soft spot for him anyway.]

Ham didn't reply.

[Ham . . . do you monitor my thinking all the time?]

[Unless you screen me out yes, it's very entertaining; Rod would have enjoyed it too.]

She looked at him sideways and shook her head, [I'm sure he would have.]

They fell silent and resumed scanning.
No hurry, this is important, and he's right, we have all the time we need.

* * *

Ham is in the House!

. . . All the houses actually, fully updated, fully synched and fully loaded, as in angry. He reviewed the field of play.

At these speeds the Ascendant maneuver was ludicrous in conception and would be almost impossible in execution. Almost - Ham's plan was simple, first curl the ship away from the Earth flight line then come back in a wide arc designed to cross the path of the Mother Lode. Secondly, to time the run of the Ascendant to coincide with the Mother Lode's pass, a maneuver that would require timing down to mere millionths of a second. He loved a challenge.

Lastly, he would openly signal his intentions leaving Tyron in no doubt as to his ramming plans and hopefully force the other vessel to bear away. The chasing EFDF's would then be presented with a broadside target and all going well, he thought,
we will fillet you, you bastard!

Just in case the cunning plan failed he had a back up; three US ADFs rocketing out from the Hillary Step on an intersection course. They would keep on accelerating until impact. Small they may be but at that velocity, hitting at just the right angle,

. . .
Aaaah, now that might just satisfy.

For a brief moment he considered dropping everything else and just going with the ADF idea. It offered the prospect of personally riding in until the very last second which might be more rewarding. It would feel like seeing the whites of their eyes and, he thought considerately, it offered the personal touch.

Then he dismissed it quickly, thinking of Jean. 'Do it once, do it right' she often said in that school ma'am tone.
She can be a pain but she's also often right, it doesn't pay to get even a smidgeon too cocky
. The thought brought Rod's actions back to mind and he fought to push them away.

As the sphere of action grew smaller and smaller Ham began to view the area as his personal theatre, flashing back and forth at lightning speed between the main players, choosing to play multiple roles as he narrowed the point of attack. The closer they came together, the less the delay in communication, and the greater the accuracy of every action. The goal was simple; bring all the players together on stage at juuust the right moment . . .

* * *

Meanwhile, the little ADF was moving so fast now that cyber stretching forward, connecting with the drone and quick-scanning information, all before flashing by was becoming almost impossible; especially when erasing all record of her passing was also a priority.

For the drones still ahead she decided on a new strategy. Simply analyze the signals being regularly transmitted back to Hillary and then destroy the drones as she passed. It would only be a few, she reasoned, and Ham could easily replace them.

 . . . Beria had to be on this line . . . surely . . . though a kernel of unease was still eating at her . . . was it doubt or something else?

* * *

The Saucer

On split screen now, Regan and Ham followed a delayed feed of the action arena while continuing their search for bodies. The main players on screen all appeared to be moving slowly, just small dots travelling at snails pace with the Mother Lode clearly the focus of attention. The gathering fleas, expertly guided, were moving in for their attack. Regan could see thirty dots, the ADFs, lining up to deliver their missiles from the rear, plus two sets of ten preparing to attack from either side. The side shots would be the most difficult, especially at the speeds involved.

At maximum speed now the EFDFs were steadily gaining on the warship but she could see it would be touch and go whether they would make it in time to prevent a catastrophe on Hillary Station. In fact it was looking increasingly likely that unless something slowed the huge vessel the EFDF nukes might just result in an unintended shower of debris moving on at unimaginable speed. On current trajectory the cloud would continue on without resistance to pepper Hillary Station in a shotgun blast of hugely destructive pellets.

The path of the Ascendant would be the key. Regan could see its speed appeared to be similar to the Mother Lode and Ham was timing its run as best he could. Of course, on the scale of the screen it appeared perfect but she knew in reality the huge potential for being hundreds of kilometers off target.

On the far edge of the screen earthward she could also see three small dots approaching on a collision course, the American ADFs, the last gasp sacrificial lambs.

[How long before we know Ham?]

[The fleas will engage in five minutes, Minjee's flight will rely on the warship slowing if they are to deal to it in safe space and the Ascendant will intersect in thirty seven minutes. But Regan, it's looking increasingly likely there will be a shit storm, literally.]

[Then we should signal Hilary to maneuver as best she can for safety, and we should evacuate the Hillary Step.]

She could sense him communicating but didn't bother following, continuing to concentrate on the search. No point in worrying about what couldn't be changed.

[Ham . . . all I'm seeing out there are tiny pieces.] She choked on the words, for a while unable to say what she was thinking. Even faced with the inevitable she had still hoped, really hoped for a miracle. It was not going to be. [Ham . . .] She still couldn't say it.

[Regan,] he interrupted, [we are
not
going home; not until we know.]

Chastened, she didn't reply for a moment.

[Of course, there's no hurry.]

One eye on the action, the other on their scanners, they continued to search.

* * *

The Mother Lode control deck was beginning to smell rank, despite the best attempts of the air conditioning systems to cope. The conditions in the room were becoming unbearable with body sweat prompted by fear and stress surpassing the ability of smart fabrics to cope. Nervous flatulence, spilled drinks and food from shaking hands, all added to the feeling of despair in the room. Although nothing had been said officially, word had swept the ship quickly; this was increasingly looking like a one way trip.

Tyron stood over his console, deep in thought and unapproachable. He wasn't just following the dots on the screen; he was joining them, building a picture that told him what he needed to know. In particular he focused on the Ascendant's path, considering its role in the unfolding drama and ruminating quietly on the implications. The sister ship was attempting to communicate with them and he was torn whether to entertain the risk of connection. Their trajectory was clearly designed to cross the path of the Mother Lode with an intention at best to join them, at worst to deliberately ram.
Do I turn away or call their bluff?

Without communicating he had no way of discovering the Ascendant's intentions, and even if he did could he rely on anything they told him? He would have to make the call blind and six hundred could lose their lives on this decision alone.

"Comm's" he barked.

"Yes sir!"

"Nothing has changed, ignore their calls." He turned back to his screen, as Kyle appeared in the corner of his vision. Without looking up he acknowledged him, "Yes Kyle . . ."