Haze and the Hammer of Darkness (33 page)

“Did they say that in so many words, Major?”

“They were somewhat more blunt. They sent the technology documentation. They rebuilt the dropboat, and they returned me, and they suggested that the Federation would find none of that convincing.” Roget could see that the Dubietans had read the colonel correctly.

Colonel Tian's image looked blandly at Roget. “The diagnostics on the dropboat and the tracking of your return course indicate that you didn't lift off from Haze at all.”

Roget repressed a sigh. “In fact, I did. Rather the Dubietans launched me—”

“Exactly how did they launch you?”

“From a rather elaborate cradle in the middle of their launch complex, as I indicated.”

“Are you still convinced this launch complex was underground? Are you certain that wasn't another illusion?”

Roget let the illusion reference pass. He'd never said anything was an illusion. “I traveled there by their tube system. My internals indicated we descended quite a bit to get there. I would think that the dropboat recorders would have provided details.”

“Nothing shows on the datacorders between the time of your landing and the time, within a few nanoseconds, when your dropboat appeared on the farscreens and EDIs of various Federation vessels.”

That meant the dropboat had recorded his landing. “Then we have a record of the planetary parameters.”

“If they can be trusted,” replied Tian.

“They match what I've reported and what your analyses already show.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because, sir, you would have told me if they had not, and you would have dismissed all that I have reported far sooner. I would also guess that there is no evidence at all of tampering with the recording systems of either dropboat.”

The faintest hint of a frown appeared on the colonel's face but vanished immediately. “Oh … and what might that indicate?”

“That they have a very advanced technology. If they did not tamper with the data, then what I have said bears that out, and if they did, and we cannot detect it, then they also have advanced technology.”

“You are rather adamant about that, Major.”

“I know what I saw, sir. I also know what I brought back and how I returned to the
ZengYi
. Has anyone had a chance to study the documentation the Dubietans sent?”

“We don't have a science team here, Major. The engineers are looking over what's been scanned to us. We're not about to datalink.”

The Federation had known about Dubiety … and they hadn't dispatched a single scientist with the
WuDing
? “Supposedly, the data can be read on an independent system.”

“That may be, Major, but the
ZengYi
doesn't have that kind of equipment, and I'm not about to risk anything like that onboard a capital ship.”

Roget could understand that, but he didn't understand why a portable console couldn't be transferred to the corvette … unless the colonel wasn't all that interested in the data.

Another series of questions followed, in which the colonel repeated and rephrased earlier inquiries. Then came yet another set of rephrasings.

Roget kept his answers shorter and more factual the second and third times he replied to the variations on the same questions, especially since the colonel clearly wasn't interested in knowing what Roget thought, only what he could prove.

Finally, Tian cleared his throat. “For the present you will remain on board the
ZengYi.
I would caution you not to speak to anyone else about the specifics of your mission. I trust you understand, Major.”

“Yes, sir.”
You don't want anyone to know what might be down there, especially if you're going to try to destroy it.

The colonel's image vanished.

Within moments, the hatch to the tiny comm room opened, and a Federation lieutenant stood there. “Major … we're a bit cramped, but there's a spare bunk in the exec's stateroom … if you'd like to rest.”

Roget rose, picking up the pack at his feet. “I would, thank you. It's been a long day.” But not nearly so long as those ahead of him, he feared.

The executive officer's stateroom was all of ten meters down the main upper deck passageway. There, Roget stretched out on the narrow upper bunk but did not really sleep, lying there in a worried doze. He was more than glad to sit up when the hatch opened, but he barely remembered to keep his head down before he almost rammed it into the overhead.

“Major, Jess Uhuru,” offered the dark-skinned Federation captain. “I'm the exec here. I just wanted to let you know that the wardroom is open. We didn't know what sort of schedule you've been on.”

“Thank you.” Roget swung his feet over the side of the bunk and then dropped to the deck. “I'm sorry to intrude on your space, Captain.”

“We're happy to be able to accommodate you, sir. It's not often that anyone gets to see an FSA officer who's survived a hostile planet.”

“It wasn't that hard once I landed. Their orbital shields are rough, but they're not hostile down there.”
Not yet.
Roget paused. “What about the pilot of the other dropboat?”

Uhuru shook his head. “He's sedated and restrained in sickbay. He started raving about all of us just being tools of the creatures down below.” After a moment, he asked, “Are they really alien down there?”

“They appear quite human, but they have a very different way of looking at things.” That was accurate enough. “It can be very upsetting.” Roget followed the exec out into the narrow passageway.

“Here comes the commander, sir.” Uhuru stepped back.

A squarish major appeared in the passageway. He smiled broadly. “Major, Kiang Khuo. We're glad to see you made it back.”

“Thank you. I'm sorry about being parked here.”

“That's not a problem. We can handle an additional officer or two. Beyond that … let's just say that it gets cozier than anyone would like.” The
ZengYi
's commander gestured toward the open hatch to the wardroom mess, less than five meters aft from where he stood.

Roget made his way along the passage and into the officers' wardroom, compact like everything else aboard a corvette, a space some five meters long and slightly less than four wide, with narrow chairs that barely fit the four officers already seated. He took the seat to the right of the commander, who seated himself at the head of the table. Uhuru sat across from Roget.

Khuo served himself from the platter in front of him, then nodded to Roget. “Replicated sesame stuff, but at least the galley was overhauled just before we broke orbit. Last deployment … we won't go into that.” He shook his head.

Roget took a moderate helping of the sauced meat, then of the sticky rice. “Did you come out with the
WuDing,
or were you with the follow-up fleet?”

“We were here from the beginning. We were the escort on the scoutships that did the drops. Have to say it was something watching all of you. One minute you were on the screens, and the next the gray haze swallowed you all—except the last dropboat. Poor bastard. He just exploded when he hit the gray.” Khuo looked to Roget. “Was there a trick to it?”

“I just checked the relative motion. We didn't drop fast enough.” Roget shrugged. “Had to goose the dropboat to keep from getting run down.”

“Run down?”

“Oh … the shields are millions of chunks of grayish stuff all orbiting at pretty high speed.”

“What kind of chunks?” asked a young lieutenant at the end of the table.

“That's all I can say about it right now,” Roget replied.

“Major … you seem to have the Security types concerned,” offered Uhuru.

“They're often concerned,” Roget replied. “That's their job.”

“We couldn't pick up any track of your dropboat,” said the exec. “Then you were on the screens. Did the Thomists—they are Thomists, aren't they—somehow shield you?”

“So far as I know, they didn't. They repaired the dropboat and launched me back on a return course.” While Tian had told Roget to say nothing, the officers of the
ZengYi
had already observed more than he'd said.

“How did you get so close without any trace?” pressed the young lieutenant.

“I don't know how they accomplished that,” Roget replied.

“But—”

“Lieutenant…” Commander Khuo's voice was quiet but firm.

“They're still analyzing the data and the materials I brought back,” Roget said. “They might offer some answers. Until they do, I suspect, I'm likely to be your guest.”

“How did you end up in outsystem security?” asked the commander, clearly signaling a change in wardroom conversation.

“FSA decided I was the type of agent who worked better alone and on challenging projects,” Roget replied.

“I think that might equate to resourceful and expendable,” suggested the commander.

Roget had long since come to that conclusion, but he just smiled. “We do what we can.”

“That's all any of us can.”

“What do you think will happen … with Haze?” asked the exec.

“What the fleet marshal—or anyone—least expects,” Roget replied. “I don't know what that will be, but the Dubietans are surprising in their predictability.”

“Surprising in their predictability?” The commander raised his eyebrows.

“What they do is extremely predictable in hindsight, but unexpected in its applications. That's all I can say.” And more than the colonel would have wished, even if Roget hadn't revealed anything directly. He took a sip of the tea.

It wasn't bad, but it tasted flat, especially compared to the food on Dubiety.

 

30

18 LAYU 6746
F. E.

Three pilots with fresh deep-space, small-craft certifications sat in the low gravity of the Belt Control operations office opposite a senior Federation Interstellar Service major. The major was speaking. Roget was one of the pilots listening intently.

“All three of you have excelled in your training. That is to be expected. Also expected, before you are dispatched to your next duty station, you have a proficiency flight. Call it a postgraduate assignment.” The senior major looked over the three pilots. “The other name for it is ‘the squirrel run.'”

Roget had heard of the squirrel runs through certain sections of the belt. Despite the best efforts of the Federation Interstellar Service, independent operators, often piratical, still tended to pop up—or be discovered or rediscovered among the smaller bodies scattered through the Asteroid Belt, or the Oort Cloud, or the Kuiper Belt. Most of these tended to die off, literally, because they'd escaped the Federation's outsystem control with too little equipment, but there were some who persisted … and some who raided outsystem mining outposts for hard-to-get technology or supplies when their own failed or were exhausted. The unofficial Federation policy was to leave well enough alone unless the belt colony appeared to be prosperous and growing, or unless the unapproved colonists had turned to piracy.

Not so benign neglect,
thought Roget.

Lieutenant Castaneda exchanged looks with Lieutenant Braun, but neither spoke.

“Is this a pirate colony, sir, or an unapproved one?” asked Roget.

“Does it matter, Major? Orders are orders.”

“Yes, sir. It does matter. A pirate colony is more likely to have amassed various arms and armament systems. An established and unapproved colony will be heavily dug in and fortified but is likely to have older weapons systems.”

The senior major nodded. “It is older and unapproved
and
a pirate colony. You will carry a full range of armament. You are not to attempt any rescues, regardless of possible distress calls, because this colony has used that ruse to capture vessels and savage others for their equipment and supplies.”

“Yes, sir.” Roget appreciated that information. He would have wagered it wasn't laid out that bluntly in the official briefing materials.

“Major Roget will be the flight leader. Briefing consoles five, seven, and nine are reserved for you and will respond only to your IDs. You have two hours before you're to report to the attack boat locks. That is all.”

The three stood.

“Best of luck, gentlemen.”

Once the three were outside the ops section in the main wide corridor beneath the surface of Ceres, Lieutenant Castaneda glanced at Lieutenant Braun. Then both looked to Roget.

“Squirrel run, sir?”

“Think of tree rodents. They're hard to find in a forest. They duck in and out of things, and when they have a ship, they can circle around an asteroid or a chunk of rock as fast as you can, just like a squirrel around a trunk. They can dig in deep, so deep that all you can do is seal the entrance, and if they survive, they'll just dig out somewhere else. That's unless you take in really massive weapons and fragment the rock that holds the whole colony—and then FIS gets hell because you've scattered all sorts of missiles across the system that will have to be tracked to make sure that they don't impact other installations.”

“What's the point, then, sir?”

“To keep the squirrel population down and wary,” replied Roget dryly. “And to give all new pilots a solid idea of their limitations.” He walked with long and low strides along the blue-walled corridor that led to the ready room—and the briefing consoles.

The two lieutenants followed.

A good standard hour later, Roget was fully suited and standing in the surface lock, ready to enter the needleboat he'd been assigned. He pulsed his ID and authorization code to the lock receptor, and the bar on the lock plate turned green. Then he twisted the wheel through three full turns—all locks on the station that could open to vacuum had manual wheels—before again pressing the plate. The lock opened, revealing the closed outer lock of the combat needleboat.