Ecolitan Prime (Ecolitan Matter) (50 page)

“W
E HAVE A
problem,” said Nathaniel as the two stepped into Swersa’s office. Sylvia closed the door.

“I thought your study was complete.” The white-haired Ecolitan fingered her chin and frowned.

“The study was only the first part. It was also a cover.” Whaler laughed. “It’s a good study, but it wasn’t enough.”

“Reason and rationality usually aren’t,” Sylvia added with a hard and bright smile.

“Might I use your console for a moment?” Nathaniel smiled politely.

Swersa swallowed, then stepped toward the equipment, and flicked the privacy screens on. “You’re not just an economist.”

“I’m an economist who’s been continually drafted into trying to solve problems bigger than I am.”

“You’re going to invoke the delegation clause, I suppose?”

Nathaniel shook his head, almost sadly, as he slipped behind the console. “No. I’m invoking the Prime clause.”

As the lights flickered across the console before settling into the green, the older Ecolitan looked from one green uniform to the other, then to the grayness of brick and clouds beyond the windows. “I got the message, but…I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“It has. Perhaps worse than the Prime anticipated.”

In the silence that followed, Nathaniel sat behind the console and began to enter the necessary codes.

Over his shoulder, Swersa watched as the lines unfolded on the screen, and her eyes widened. Her swallow was more like a gulp.

“You want to purchase the largest interstellar cargo carrier available in the New Avalon system and want it delivered now? How can you afford—”

“The credit line is twenty billion. You should be able to get what we need for three.”

Even Sylvia swallowed as Nathaniel offered the numbers.

Swersa continued to stare over the sandy-haired Ecolitan’s shoulder at the screen.

“Now,” emphasized Nathaniel. “The largest carrier available by tomorrow, the day after by the latest. With support boats. If not support boats, then yachts that will fit inside a cargo lock. No publicity, no notice.” He began to type in the remainder of the specifications he had developed at a time that seemed all too long ago, even though it had been less than two months earlier.

“Isn’t this premature? I mean, nothing’s happened.”

Sylvia shook her head. “By the time anything happens, it will be too late.”

“This would happen to me.” Swersa paused. “What about a crew?”

“Me…you…Sylvia.” He paused. “You are current, aren’t you, at least to be a second pilot?”

“I’ve got a command cert, sir.”

“Good.”

“But…”

“What is the oath?”

Swersa paled. “You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t you think averting a Galactic war is enough justification?”

“I can’t believe you—or the Prime—”

Sylvia’s eyes flicked from one Ecolitan to the other.

Nathaniel shook his head and said slowly, “‘All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.’ Very ancient quote. What does the oath say?”

“To do what is necessary…to act for the greater good…to put principle above politics.”

“That’s what we’re doing.” He pushed himself away from the console and gestured to the screen. “That’s your charge.”

“But a cargo carrier…how will that…the Conglomerate has hundreds of warships. Or will you pull out some economic miracle?”

“As all of the great villains in history have said, ‘Trust me.’” Nathaniel laughed harshly. “If I’m successful, I’ll doubtless join them. If not, then several hundred million more innocents will die.”

The Fuardian marshal looked at the flimsy. “They’re bluffing. They have to be bluffing.”

The sub-marshal waited.

“What do you say, Sub-marshal Hommel?”

“I do not have the information you have, ser.”

“But?”

“Accord—the Institute—has never bluffed.”

“They cannot stop us. Not even they can stop us. Not now. Continue the plan.”

T
HE FOUR STOOD
behind the lock hatch of the shuttle as it crept up to the wall-like hull of the former
J.M. Turner
.

“She’s all yours, Ecolitan. Fully energized, with all the boats except number five.” The small man wiped his forehead. “All the magtites operational except number three—you knew about that. And two weeks of standard crew fare.” He raised both eyebrows.

Nathaniel nodded. “We’ll take a look, of course.”

“Yes, sir.” Magnuson, the ship factor representing the Bank of Camelot, wiped his forehead again. “The crew fare is class one, I might add.”

“Thank you.”

Clunk
. The shuttle shivered as the small craft linked to the cargo carrier.

“Magnuson, you’re clear to take the purchasers aboard.” The words reverberated from the speaker above the lock.

Nathaniel closed his helmet, as did the others, before entering the lock. The faint hissing as the pressure between the cargo carrier and the shuttle equalized was inaudible, and Nathaniel automatically checked the outside pressure gauge—a little over thirty, or about eighty percent of T-Norm. The pressure stayed there as the four entered the
Turner’s
lock. Even the passenger lock was oversized, with a three meter square hatch, probably for large and delicate cargo of some sort.

Once the inner lock hatch closed behind the four and they stood—or floated—in the red maintenance lights of the passageway, Nathaniel cracked his helmet. The air was chill, both sterile and musty, although the
Turner
had only been laid into storage a month before, with the bankruptcy and collapse of Hanoverian Shipping. Three other cargo ships had also been available, but the
Turner
had the largest drives and the greatest tonnage.

“Forward.” Nathaniel turned and let the others follow as he pulled himself forward.

The cockpit—except it was the bridge on commercial ships, Nathaniel recalled—was only slightly larger than on an Institute cruiser, with four couch positions, rather than five. The board before the pilots’ couches was simpler, the engineering board close to identical, but a military ship had nothing to compare to the fourth board, for cargo handling and loading. Then…there were no weapons board, and no separate comm board.

He pulled himself down into the captain’s couch, belted himself in, and lifted the input set, adjusting the clamps before easing it into place and toggling the system standbys. He could feel Magnuson wince at the power drains.
Anything
drained power on a ship so large.

“Cells…normal…converters…accumulators…shield lines…” he murmured as he checked the circuits to each and the readouts.

From what he could tell through the shipnets, the
Turner
was as represented, not that he could afford to reject the ship if she were basically capable of what he needed. But there was no point in letting the bank’s tame factor know that. He paused, then set the gee field to minimum.

He set aside the input headset and stood. “Now…the drive spaces.”

Magnuson nodded, and the three followed him aft, half-bounding, half-drifting in the min-gee he’d toggled into place.

The door to the drive spaces creaked as it irised open, but moved smoothly.

Each jump-generator was the size of the entire drive space in a military corvette, and there were five. In spite of himself, Nathaniel was impressed. The
Turner
might actually have the power to do what he’d planned. He pushed aside those thoughts. First things first, or he’d never get to the end.

The drives and supercon lines looked operational, as did the rest of the arrayed equipment.

Nathaniel plugged into the lower boards, running through the circuits, starting with the drives, then going to the jump-generators, and finally ending with the power leads to the magtites.

He shook his head.

“What’s the matter, sir? It’s just as the specs said…”

“The power draws for the magtites are thirty percent above specs. That wasn’t specified.”

“We’ll rebate a hundred million.”

“Make it two.” Nathaniel wouldn’t need to use the magtites anywhere close to capacity, perhaps not at all, but there was no sense in the Institute paying more than necessary. “With four of these beasts to sell…”

“All right.” Magnuson swallowed. “All right. Two hundred million.”

“If you would, just send it to the Legation. They can handle it. And make sure title is held by the Institute,” he emphasized again.

“As you wish, Ecolitan Whaler.”

He closed down the boards, shifting the controls back forward, and sealed them. Then he checked the supercon lines again, and the actual power flows. Supposedly, cross-connections were standard on every cargo carrier, but he needed to ensure that.

He finally nodded. He could shift everything into the in-system drives, every last erg of power.

“Is that all?”

“Almost, Magnuson. The boats, and then we’ll be through.”

There were supposed to be two boats for each hatch, ten in all, and a lifeboat, which was more like a courier. In fact, the specs were similar. One boat—boat five—was missing, as the factor had pointed out from the beginning.

From what Nathaniel could tell, the ship held atmosphere; the boats were operational; the systems worked; and the entire carrier was economically unfeasible under current economic conditions.

After checking the courier, the Ecolitan straightened. “Everything seems to be as specified…except for the magtites. Let’s go back forward.”

As the four reached the passageway opposite the forward crew/passenger lock, Magnuson fumbled out the oblong that was half clipboard, half datacase. “If you would authenticate this, and make the changes. The rebate section is at the end…”

Nathaniel forced himself to read through all the clauses, just to make sure of things like liabilities and contingencies, to ensure they didn’t outlive the lifetime of the ship. From what he could tell, they didn’t, and he finally authenticated everything, after he’d added the provisions for the two hundred million credit rebate, and ensuring that the Institute held title.

He wanted to smile. For a man who’d never made fifty thousand, spending slightly over three billion credits in a day seemed insane—but what he was planning was equally so.

“What are you going to do with her, sir, if I might ask?” Magnuson stowed the datacase, then paused by the passenger lock.

“Reinforce some of the forgotten laws of economics, Magnuson.” Nathaniel smiled coolly.

“I…we…wish you well.”

“Thank you.”

After the ship factor’s boat vanished into the darkness beyond the hull, Nathaniel took a deep breath. They had much to do, too much.

Sylvia and LuAn looked to him.

“First, we get ready to break orbit and get out of here, before anyone understands what we’ve got.”

“What do we have?”

“A ship almost as big as the largest Imperial battlecruiser.” And about a dozen times as deadly…if…if…his contingency plans worked. He turned back toward the bridge-cockpit. “Let’s go.”

N
ATHANIEL EASED THE
drives on line, then completed the checklist before squaring himself in the pilot’s couch and triggering the comm. “New Avalon orbit control, this is Coordinate ship
Adam Smith,
breaking orbit this time. Breaking orbit this time.”

“Coordinate vessel
Smith,
cleared outbound, radial zero nine five, remain within the orange until past beacon three. Request you remain at point one zero delta vee until clear of the home zone.”

“Stet, control, holding point one zero on zero nine five this time. Point one zero on zero nine five this time.” Nathaniel glanced toward the second seat where Sylvia sat monitoring his actions, trying to get some basic understanding of the board. He turned his head toward the engineering board.

LuAn nodded. “Everything’s in the green.”

Nathaniel stretched, but continued to scan the boards and the shipnets. While the basic layout was familiar, neither the scope and size of the ship were, and he would need a better feel before he had to implement his contingency plan.

“Feels like…it’s big,” added Swersa.

“That’s the point. We need a big ship,” Nathaniel said. The newly named
Smith
was big enough that there were different grav-field generators for the bridge-cockpit, and for the rest of the ship—a definite energy-saving measure for the big cargo-carrier.

Sylvia frowned.

“Coordinate ship
Smith,
this is orbit control. Interrogative destination. Interrogative destination.”

It was Nathaniel’s turn to frown. He wasn’t about to reveal their interim or ultimate destination, but what plausible destination could he provide? Then he grinned. “Herzogov three. Herzogov three is immediate destination.” A destination of the military core of the Federated Hegemony should create a little stir.

“Understand Herzogov three,
Smith
.”

“That is affirmative. Herzogov three.”

“Thank you,
Smith
. Pleasant jumps.”

The Ecolitan pilot went back to the boards and began a thorough scan of the systems, taking his time as he did, and interspersing his check-out with continued scans of the comm bands and the EDI. He didn’t want any more deep space surprises, not after their experiences with the
Gallia
.

Nearly a stan later, he leaned back in the couch and wiped his forehead.

“All right. I’ve waited. Can you two let me in on the big secret?” asked Swersa.

“Yes. Sorry I haven’t been too communicative, but I figured there’d be time to explain along the way.” Nathaniel checked the EDIs—nothing headed their way, and a clear corridor to an out-system jump. “And there will be. We’ve got another three until jump point.”

Swersa turned to face Nathaniel directly.

“In simple terms, we’re going to destroy the Fuard High Command.”

Swersa’s jaw dropped. “With what? This is a cargo ship.”

“Exactly. And we’re going to visit a graveyard.”

“A graveyard?”

“A place called Sligo. The Empire fragmented it four hundred years ago. You may recall…”

Swersa nodded. “I trained there, but that was years ago, and even then…”

“There’s a lot of free metal hanging around.”

“I don’t think I’m going to like this.” Swersa paused. “And just how are you going to turn this cargo hulk into a warship?”

“I’m not. I’m going to turn it into the biggest high-speed torp ever launched.”

The older Ecolitan paled.

“I don’t like it, either,” Nathaniel admitted. “But the Fuards are on the fringe of starting a war between Accord and the Empire, plus a civil war on Artos. The civil war will allow them to take Artos, and begin to turn New Avalon into a protectorate. The Empire can’t respond, not with the animosity created toward Accord, and not with three major fleets being shifted away from the Three System Bulge toward Sector Five.”

“Just how will devastating the Conglomerate High Command stop this war? That’s assuming you can even pull off this miracle.”

“It will be a disaster, not a miracle,” confessed Whaler. “I calculate that it will bring home three points. First, that Accord can create vast destruction without use of a single known armed vessel. Second, that governments should not be allowed to manipulate others into fighting their wars, not and get away with it. And third, that Accord is impartial enough to rescue the Empire, since the Coordinate can obtain absolutely no advantage from this, economic or military.” The pilot smiled. “Except to prevent an unnecessary war.”

“Won’t the Conglomerate…”

“They can’t really get to Accord, except through the Empire, or the other major outsystems, or by taking incredibly out-of-the-way jumps, which won’t leave them with much energy to spare,” pointed out Sylvia.

“Plus, it’s very hard to carry out a war when you have no coordination and command structure left.” Not to mention high collateral damage, he added to himself. Would he be part of the collateral damage? There was an awfully high risk of that.

“I don’t know.” LuAn touched her chin. “I don’t know.”

“Would you let a Fuardian fleet jump through your space? That’s also assuming that they’re going to want to after all the information about their little covert war is spread to every intelligence service in the human Galaxy,” added Sylvia.

“Will the Empire believe this?” asked Swersa.

“The I.I.S. already does, but it can’t change things under the current political climate,” answered Sylvia.

“In short, the mob still wants to whack the Coordinate, and the Fuards are somehow encouraging them.”

“I think that sums it up,” acknowledged Nathaniel.

Swersa turned to Sylvia. “How many links to what you two do have?”

“Enough,” answered Sylvia. “Enough.”

“When I got that message from the Prime, I was worried.” LuAn grimaced. “I don’t think I understood how much I should have worried.”

There wasn’t much either of the other Ecolitans could have said, and they didn’t.

Nathaniel dropped back into the shipnets, trying to improve his feel for the huge cargo boat.