The Night's Dawn Trilogy (409 page)

A Confederation Navy sanctioned starship on a clandestine mission in the Tyrathca system. It would have to be a very important
mission to risk an inter-species clash at this delicate time. Etchells knew damn well it had to be connected to the issue
of possession somehow. Nothing else would warrant approval. When he extrapolated its trajectory, he saw it was going to fly
past a moonlet. He ran through a batch of his stolen almanac memories, discovering that the moonlet was actually an arkship,
abandoned over a thousand years ago after a flight from an exploding star. His knowledge of Tyrathca history was almost zero,
although the fundamentals were there. But he certainly couldn’t imagine any connection with their ancient ship and the possession
crisis.

A quick swallow manoeuvre put him a thousand kilometres from Tanjuntic-RI, hours ahead of the Adamist starship, and he began
to examine it. That was when he found the stealthed voidhawk lurking so close to the surface it was almost touching.

His flush of achievement was tempered by continuing worry. What the hell were they doing here? It had to be important. Critical,
even. Which meant it was a threat to him. Among all his possible options, one thing was very clear. They had to be prevented
from achieving their goal, whatever it was.

This is captain Syrinx of the voidhawk
Oenone
.
Who am I addressing?

The name’s Etchells, and I’m one of Capone’s hell-hawks.

Leave this star system immediately. We will not hesitate to use force to make you comply.

Tough bitch, huh? Well, give me a reason to leave. In fact, I’d like you to tell me what you two are doing here.

Our task is not your concern. Leave, now.

Wrong. I think it has a lot to do with me.
Etchells launched a combat wasp at the arkship, then immediately swallowed away. The wormhole terminus opened a hundred kilometres
from the Adamist starship. He loaded a hunter program into another combat wasp, and launched it as he emerged into real space.

______

As soon as Syrinx warned him a hellhawk had arrived, Joshua initiated combat status. He knew damn well their cover either
had been, or was about to be, blown.
Lady Mac
’s main fusion generators powered up, the full suite of combat sensors rose out of their recesses, combat wasp launch tubes
opened. Alkad Mzu and Peter Adul hurriedly secured themselves on the large, zero-tau capable acceleration couches in the lounge.
Up in the bridge, webbing tightened around the crew.

“Wormhole terminus opening,” Beaulieu warned. “One hundred kilometres.”

Joshua triggered the
Lady Mac
’s triple fusion drives. That close wasn’t an accident, the hellhawk had their exact coordinate. “Liol, maser the bastard.”

“On it, Josh.” A targeting program went primary in his neural nanonics. Three of the starship’s eight maser cannons aligned
themselves on the terminus and fired. The beams caught the hellhawk as it slid out, and tracked it perfectly. At a hundred
kilometres, the inverse square law meant they couldn’t kill the hellhawk immediately. Joshua didn’t care about that. He just
wanted to force it away.
Lady Mac
could take a lot more radiation punishment than any bitek construct if the hellhawk wanted an energy beam duel.

It didn’t. A single combat wasp shot out of its launch cradle, curving round to intercept
Lady Mac
. The hellhawk’s harpy shape wavered and imploded into a narrow polyp ovoid pimpled by steel-grey mechanical modules. It rolled
frantically, trying to dodge the beams. After three seconds of futile manoeuvring, its distortion field applied a near-infinite
force against space, and an interstice blossomed open. Joshua fired four combat wasps to intercept the incoming drone, and
changed course again. His crew groaned in dismay as they accelerated at ten gees. Space behind
Lady Mac
’s triad of dazzling fusion drive plumes ruptured into a gale of plasma as the combat wasps ejected their submunitions. A
curtain of nuclear explosions erected an impenetrable barrier while particle beams and X-ray lasers lashed out.

“I think we’re clear,” Beaulieu datavised. “Our combat wasps knocked out their combat wasp.”

Joshua reviewed the sensor data, which was calming as the expanding plasma wreathes from the explosions turned to purple then
began to decay through the spectrum. Stars began to shine through the squall of enraged ions again. He reduced their acceleration
to four gees, and switched course once more.

“We just ditched our softly softly policy,” Sarha grunted.

“Yeah,” Dahybi said. “Whoever possesses that hellhawk knows their tactics. One combat wasp was never going to hurt us. But
it made us expose ourselves to the SD network.”

“Not just us,” Beaulieu said.

The sensors were showing them another combat wasp clash developing several hundred kilometres away from Tanjuntic-RI. “Syrinx,
where the hell did it go?” Joshua datavised. “Could you get a fix?”

“It swallowed over to the moons,” Syrinx said.

Joshua already had the star system’s almanac file open. He reviewed the data on the twin moons. Airless rocks, three thousand
kilometres in diameter. If they hadn’t been orbiting Hesperi-LN they’d be categorised as exceptionally large asteroids. “There’s
nothing there for it,” he protested. “The Tyrathca don’t even bother mining them the ore’s so poor.”

“I know. We think it’s just a good location for a tactical withdrawal at this point in time. And it’ll be at least partially
shielded from the SD sensors. The Tyrathca probably don’t know it’s here.”

“Great. Did you manage to get the team in?”

“Yes, they’re in. But
Oenone
is now holding station a hundred kilometres out from Tanjuntic-RI in case the hellhawk tries to swallow in and launch some
more combat wasps. The arkship is very fragile, Joshua, it couldn’t withstand a nuclear assault. That leaves us totally exposed.
The Tyrathca’s sensors have already locked on to us.”

The flight computer reported that three radars were already focused on
Lady Mac
’s hull. “Shit.” Joshua shut down the fusion drives and let the starship coast along. Their trajectory wasn’t taking them
anywhere near Tanjuntic-RI anymore. “They’re watching us, too,” he told Syrinx. “Now what?”

“It’s their move. We wait.”

The message came eight minutes later, beamed at both
Lady Macbeth
and
Oenone
from one of the low orbit docking stations. “Human craft, you are not permitted here. You have fired weapons above our planet.
This is an act of war. Leave now. Do not return.”

“Brief, but not open to much misinterpretation,” Ashly said as the message began to repeat. “I’m surprised they didn’t put
in an
or else
.”

“They just have,” Beaulieu said. “Three ships on their way to intercept us. One-point-two-gee acceleration.”

“For them, that’s really racing along,” Liol said. “The Tyrathca hate high gees.”

“Another three fusion drive ignitions,” Beaulieu said. “One heading for us. Two aligning on Tanjuntic-RI.”

“At least we’re out of range from the platforms’ combat wasps,” Liol said. “That could have been nasty.”

“What’s your assessment?” Joshua asked Syrinx. He started to run the Tyrathca ship trajectories through some tactical analysis
programs. While he was doing it, another two ships ignited their fusion drives and started to fly up on a course for the arkship.

“I think the situation’s still manageable,” she replied. “Providing it doesn’t escalate any further.”

“Yeah. I’m working on that aspect. We’ve got to make sure the team can continue. You’re going to have to stop that hellhawk
from coming back to Tanjuntic-RI.”

“We can swallow out to the moons and keep it very busy. But that leaves the team without protection. One of those Tyrathca
ships is bound to investigate the arkship. Even with their phlegmatism, they’ll want to know what we’re doing here.”

“Leave it to me. I’ll divert them. You get over to the moons.”

“Acknowledged.” Joshua lifted his head, and smiled round at his crew.

“Oh God,” Sarha moaned with unfeigned consternation. “I hate it when you smile like that!”

“Cheer up. We’re going to invade Hesperi-LN.”

______

The rotating airlock chamber had survived the spaceport bearing seizure almost intact. Samuel cut through the wall and floated
into the big empty space. His helmet lights automatically defocused, throwing their radiance all around him. It was a cylindrical
chamber, fifteen metres in diameter, and fifty long; stark even by Tyrathca standards. The walls were lined with a petrified
sponge material resembling pumice stone, with thousands of regularly spaced indentations. Each one was just big enough to
accept a Tyrathca breeder’s hoof.

There were three airlock hatches at each end, large circular affairs with chunky electromechanical locking rims. Precisely
halfway down the chamber was a bulging hoop; the rotating seal to provide the Tyrathca with a pressurized transfer from the
arkship to the spaceport. Now, its working fluid had evacuated, internal components were reduced to granular sculptures of
their former selves; a technological cave etching.

Renato Vella squirmed into the chamber with jerky motions, knocking large chips of the wall material from the edge of the
hole Samuel had cut. “Oh great, late era gloomy,” he pronounced. “They didn’t exactly go in for frills, did they?”

“I doubt a translator could even find an equivalent word,” Samuel datavised back.

The first serjeant was emerging from the hole, fracturing even more wall material as it came. There was an almost identical
hole a third of the way round the wall, slightly larger. A matching opening had been made next to one of the airlocks at the
ship end of the chamber. Samuel’s gauntlets gripped the indentations in the desiccated sponge fabric, and he moved cautiously
hand over hand towards it.

“This must be where the archaeology team cut their way in,” he datavised. “Wait. Yes.” The suit sensors showed him a small
plastic box fixed close to the jagged rim by a blob of epoxy, narrow lines of red human lettering covered a third of its dark
blue surface. “Some kind of communication block. There are several cables running through the hole.” He ordered his suit communicator
to transmit a standard interrogation signal. “No response. I guess the power’s drained by now.”

“Shame,” Renato datavised. “It would have been convenient to have some kind of communication net in there.”

“We could probably power it up again,” Oski replied. “It’s only a century old, the processors will be fully functional.”

“Forget it,” Monica told them. “The bitek processors can keep us in touch with each other and
Oenone
. We’re not going to be inside long enough to justify getting cosy.”

“We hope,” Samuel said. With the whole team now in the airlock chamber, his helmet lights refocused into wide beams. He grasped
the edge of the old hole and pulled himself through.

The archaeology team had cut their way into a broad corridor that served one of the large jammed-up airlocks. It was a simple,
square section shaft sliced straight through the rock, with the spongy hoof-grab fabric along the floor, and pipes fastened
to both walls. He barely did more than look round, when Syrinx announced the presence of a hellhawk. She gave them a running
commentary as the other team members emerged into the corridor.

“The
Oenone
is swallowing over to the moons to tag the hellhawk,” Syrinx told them. “
Lady Macbeth
will distract the Tyrathca.”

“For how long?” Monica asked.

“As long as possible,” Joshua replied. “Worst case, we fail completely. Their first ship should reach Tanjuntic-RI in fifty-three
minutes—mark.”

“That’s no good. We won’t even have reached the second level by then.”

“I’ll swap with you any time.”

“Sorry, Joshua; that wasn’t a complaint. How did that hellhawk know we were here?”

“Probably followed us from the antimatter station,” Syrinx said. “It wouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Thank you, Captains,” Samuel datavised. “We’ll try to be as quick as we can.”

“If things get too hot, let us know,” Joshua replied.

“We’d better get on,” Samuel told the team. “Every minute of lead time could be indispensable later.” He ordered his backpack
to fire the cold gas jets, and slid easily along the corridor to the first big airlock. Monica triggered her own backpack,
and glided after him.

The corridor flared out around the airlock, which was a typical example of Tyrathca engineering: a square of titanium four
metres in diameter with rounded corners, edged with locking seals, thick, sturdy, and reliable. And vacuum welded into place.
The archaeology team had solved the egress problem by cutting out a metre-wide circle of metal from the Tyrathca slab and
installing their own airlock. It was a simple mechanical hatch with frictionless hinges and seals. A chrome handle was half-recessed
in the middle, with standard operating instructions stencilled beside it.

Samuel secured himself and pulled the handle. His armour’s power augmentation barely kicked in to help. The handle slid up,
and rotated ninety degrees.

“One up to human engineering,” Renato datavised as Samuel pushed the hatch inwards.

“Not really,” Oski datavised. “It’s our materials science that makes the difference. The hatch was designed for longterm vacuum
exposure. Their airlock was built with regular maintenance services in mind.”

There was another corridor identical to the first on the far side of the airlock. One of the serjeants shut the small hatch
after them. This corridor also ended in a big titanium airlock, with an identical human hatch inserted. Samuel pulled the
lever up. Before he could attempt to push the hatch open, his suit sensors advised him of an environment change. “It’s venting,”
he datavised. “Very small nitrogen release, minute contamination. Pressure must be equalising.”