The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle (41 page)

Heads came up to frown at the intruders. Right on schedule Rob’s e-butler reported that its interface with the cybersphere had just dropped out; kaos software was infiltrating all the local nodes.

“Everybody be quiet and stay calm,” the other guard said. “Keep your hands where we can see them, and please don’t do anything stupid.”

One of the console operators stood up, giving Rob an incredulous stare. “What the hell is going on? Is something wrong?”

Rob shot the ceiling above him, with the pistol on minimum charge. The manager got out a short animal screech as sharp splinters of the polyphoto strip came crashing down around him, trailing thin wisps of smoke. An alarm started to shrill loudly.

“You were told to shut up,” Rob shouted above the noise. Frightened faces stared at him. Hands were being held high in the air.

“Shit, man!” The tech was staring at the fallen manager, who was still crouched down on the floor, arms over his head, shaking badly.

“Do your job,” Rob snapped back at him.

He nodded with a fast jerk, and pressed the button to close the door.

“What?” The other guard shot the alarm, killing the sound.

“Thank you,” Rob said.

“You lot,” the tech shouted at the managers. “Get away from the consoles.”

Rob and the other guard waved their pistols meaningfully, shepherding the managers over to the glass wall. They were made to crouch down. “Joanne Bilheimer,” Rob called. “Front and center, now.”

One of the women looked up fearfully. “I’m Joanne. What do you want?”

“Up.” Rob beckoned with all four fingers. He pointed to the console marked Chief of Operations. “Secure this room, activate level three isolation.”

“I …” She gave his pistol a frightened glance. “I’m not …”

“Please,” he said. “Don’t give me any bullshit about not having the authority. And you really don’t want to make me start issuing threats, because I’ll carry them out. Now, level three?”

“I can’t interface. Something’s contaminating the console nodes.”

Rob smiled pleasantly. “That’s why CST provided you with a backup manual system as well.”

She bowed her head, then got up and walked over to the console.

The other guard was standing facing the captive managers. “This is just an anesthetic,” he told them. “Nobody’s going to be killed, we’re not homicidal lunatics.” He went along the line, pressing a hypotube against their necks. One by one they went limp and keeled over.

A big metal slab rumbled out of the floor, sealing the doorway. A similar slab covered the fire door. The air above them shimmered, then hardened as the force field came on, reinforcing the molecular structure of the walls. Two fat cylinders came telescoping down out of the ceiling at opposite ends of the room. Rob grinned in satisfaction at that: air filter, recycling the atmosphere now the force field had sealed off the air-conditioning ducts. “Thank you, Joanne.”

She didn’t even have time to look at him before the other guard slapped the hypotube against her neck.

The tech had gotten the panels off one of the consoles. He’d tipped up his tool kit, a number of custom array units spilled onto the floor around him. They all sprouted a long bundle of fiber-optic cable, which he was working frantically to connect into the ridiculously complicated console electronics.

“Can you do it?” Rob asked.

“Shut the fuck up and let me concentrate. We’ve got about two minutes left to verify control before the RI shuts us out.”

“Right.” Rob and the other guard looked at each other and shrugged. Rob didn’t have a clue what the man was doing, nor how to help him. The kaos software was still contaminating the nodes, blocking access to the cybersphere. He didn’t know what was going on outside in the rest of the complex, if the other units in the mission were going ahead, if it had stalled, if they’d already all been shot. Being cut off like this wasn’t good. He wanted to know. He needed to know. His virtual vision timer was relentlessly counting down the mission elapsed time, crossing off events that should have happened. Ninety seconds left, and the tech was still working with obsessive fever inside the console.

Come on,
Rob urged him silently.
Come on.

Wilson had reached the central gridwork in the assembly platform when his e-butler told him Oscar Monroe was calling. “Connect us,” he ordered it. He slowed his momentum against one of the gantry girders, and rotated slowly so he could look in at the starship’s rear section. All of the reaction mass tanks had been installed now, bulging out from the cylinder superstructure. Nearly a fifth of the fuselage plating was in place, with constructionbots busy adding more.

A small translucent image of Oscar’s head appeared in the corner of his virtual vision. “Want some good news, Captain?” Oscar asked.

“Sure.”

“The High Angel claims it doesn’t know of any aliens equipped with superweapons in this part of the galaxy.”

Wilson automatically shifted his gaze to the ship’s force field emplacements. Some of the generators were in place now, though none had been connected up to the power net and commissioned. “You’re right, that is good news. I take it you didn’t have any trouble dealing with the habitat?”

“Not the habitat, no.”

Wilson grinned privately; he’d encountered Chairwoman Gall a few times himself. “So what did it say?”

“It hasn’t visited the Dyson Pair, so it knows very little. It indicated that it was curious, and maybe even nervous about the barriers. Basically, it’s waiting to see what we find.”

“Interesting policy. Did it say if it had contacted any aliens at all from that section of space?”

“Not really, it’s keeping its alien privacy commitment very st—”

The link dropped out. Wilson was forming a question for the e-butler when it relayed a security alarm. The starship complex’s datanet was under some kind of kaos assault. “How bad?” he managed to ask. Several lights around the assembly platform flickered, startling him. “Forget that, give me a systems status review: overall and platform.”

Two more security alarms flashed up as the status display expanded into his virtual vision. There had been an explosion at one of the complex’s main power generators. Intruders had penetrated the gateway control room. Security guards in assembly room 4DF were in the middle of a firefight with more intruders. Sections of the complex’s datanet were failing and dropping out as the kaos software contaminated the routing nodes.

“Holy shit!”

Systems across the assembly platform were switching to backup power sources as the main grid supply fluctuated. He twisted around wildly, having to grab at the girder to stop himself from spinning. The gateway was still established, leading back to the big assessment building. Pods were sliding along the electromuscle; a couple of people were floating around the junction, looking back. “Get me the security chief,” he told his e-butler.

The status display showed power and data connections to the security command center blanking out. Fire suppression systems in surrounding sections of the tower building switched on. Shock paralyzed Wilson’s thoughts for a second. He had trouble grasping what he was seeing. Then his really ancient training kicked in:
React, don’t freeze.

Lights were going out across the assembly platform as the local management array began its emergency power-down procedures.

“Establish command of the local management array,” he instructed his e-butler. “Encrypt all traffic and key it to my pattern code. Isolate the array and the platform network from the ground complex datanet now. Authorize continuance of all its internal emergency procedures, but I want the platform’s force field erected over the gateway immediately. Divert all internal power reserves to sustaining it.”

“Working,” the e-butler said.

The virtual vision status display vanished as the datalink to the main complex was cut. “Give me internal status.” Fresh streams of translucent data wrapped around him: he was at the center of a globe composed from thousands of red and amber lines woven through and around each other. The construction activities were shutting down; even so there wasn’t a lot of power in reserve. “Cancel environment functions, we’ve got enough air for hours.”

“Enabling.”

“Locate senior staff inside the platform, and list them. Open general broadcast channel to everyone up here.”

Lights continued to go out all around him, dropping huge sections of the platform into gloomy half-light. The force field came on, sealing over the gateway. Bright light from the assessment building shone through into the gloom.

“Attention, everybody,” Wilson announced over the general channel. “The complex seems to be suffering some kind of physical assault. We’ve sealed the gateway, so we should be perfectly safe up here. But just as a precaution, I want everyone to head up to the
Second Chance
’s life-support ring, section twelve.” He skimmed through the list of senior personnel. “Give me Anna Hober.” He vaguely remembered her from crew training sessions, an astronomer from CST’s exploratory division, appointed to the crew as a sensor expert and navigator.

“Enabling.”

“Sir?” Anna Hober said.

“Anna, where are you?”

“Up at the secondary sensor array. I’m part of the installation team.”

“You’re now my executive officer. Get linked into the ship’s life-support section array, and start powering up the internal environmental systems. Snatch whoever you need from the assembly teams to facilitate the job. Get going. I want a safe haven established for everyone up here.”

“Yes, sir.”

His virtual hand touched the e-butler icon. “Give me a status display for the starship’s internal systems.”

“Enabling.”

When it came, it was a small representation. Few systems were receiving power, and the starship’s internal network was little more than primary communications links—a spine without nerve junctions.

Wilson kicked off from the girder, heading in toward the life-support ring. As he glided forward he reviewed the onboard power sources. Most of the backup emergency reserves were in place, and two of the fusion generators had been tested before being shut down again. That ought to give them enough power to sustain a few decks while the situation on the ground sorted itself out. If things started to stretch out they might even be able to start a fusion reactor and plug it into the force field generator—the drain that was exerting on reserves was uncomfortably large.

“Do we have any external communications links to the planetary datasphere available?”

“The assembly platform is equipped with emergency transmitters which can link to geostationary satellites.”

“Activate them. I need to know what’s happening down there.”

So many lights had gone off he was having trouble seeing where he was going. Girders and structural poles were invisible until he was really close. It slowed his progress; he was practically having to feel his way along now. His retinal inserts fed an infrared image into his virtual vision, turning his sight to sparkling pink and white.

The bright flood of light coming through the gateway faded away to a soft jaundiced glow given out by the assessment building’s emergency lighting. Then there was a bright orange flash, which his retinal inserts had to damp down to prevent it from dazzling him. Wilson blinked his eyes, finding himself in near darkness now the flash had died away; the main power lines had also been lost, leaving just a few emergency lighting systems functional inside the platform. The gateway was completely black. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered. His suspicions had been right all along. They were targeting
Second Chance
.

Lennie Al Husan had arrived at the Anshun CST station after a two-hour rail journey that was supposed to take forty-eight minutes. It always happened when he routed through StLincoln; there was always a delay in that station yard. So he was late for his appointment with the starship project’s media office. His editor was going to play hell over that, every media company was trying to get an angle on the flight. Lennie even dreamily entertained the idea he might somehow qualify as one of the reporter/crewmembers, a post that the CST kept dangling in front of media representatives to ensure favorable cooperation.

Except this delay had probably blown that option.

He made his way along the main concourse to the transport holding area for the starship complex. There were a couple of extensive security checks, then he was outside in the wretchedly humid air, joining several other people milling about waiting for a bus. He asked his e-butler to contact the media officer he’d been dealing with.

“I’m having trouble establishing an interface to the datasphere,” the e-butler told him. “Kaos software is contaminating the local datanet nodes.”

“Really?” Lennie looked around with interest, which was a stupid thing to do, he acknowledged. But kaos attacks were rare, and usually preceded or covered some kind of criminal activity.

A crashing sound so loud he assumed it was an explosion reverberated over the transport holding area. Along with everyone else in the queue, Lennie hit the ground. For a second he thought it was a derailment, however impossible that was. Then a roaring sound began. Mingling with that was a second crash. Lennie got up, and tried to work out where the barrage was coming from; it was now so loud he had to jam his hands over his ears.

“Full record, all senses,” he told his e-butler. He started running to the end of the long building. As he rounded the corner he got a view out over a wide section of the marshaling yard. First impression was that a lengthy train of covered wagons parked behind the cargo handling sheds was breaking apart. Two of the wagons were already reduced to scraps of junk. As he watched, a third burst open. Huge dark metal shapes were rising out of the debris on vivid columns of violet flame. They looked like armored rectangular dinosaurs, with blunt wedge-shaped heads. Thick cannon barrels jutted out from where their eyes should have been, while smaller guns protruded from the front of the head, like lethal mandibles. Three stumpy legs were folded back against each side of their flanks as they went airborne. The air shimmered around them as force fields came on.