Owner 03 - Jupiter War (38 page)

The cut in the flow of image data gave him his first foothold, because he could identify portions of what had been sent before as image data. His next foothold was a message which, by its overall pattern and timing, obviously related to that same data. And, after that, the coding they were using unravelled like a rotten net.

‘No more needed for the moment,’ he informed Brigitta, firing up the Traveller engine and swinging back in now, aware that the
Vision
had closed down its telescopes and would be, for a while at least, all but blind to his sudden course change and acceleration. Half a gravity spun his chair round in its gimbals, and put a boot on him.

As his ship now sped towards the
Vision
, he continued to work the code, telescope arrays still focused out beyond Europa. He wanted to know exactly when the
Vision
ceased to be blind, and he wanted to know what orders it would then receive from Earth. Meanwhile he also checked on the readiness of everything internal, since he needed to build up velocity, and it would be an hour yet before he could begin his true attack.

The Rhine drive was ready, the recent accelerations only minimally distorting the ring of the vortex generator; the Mach-effect drive, now always partially engaged, worked to stabilize the ship’s skeleton; while the Traveller engine had eaten up just ten per cent of its new supply of fuel; and the Saberhagens’ weapons could not be more ready. The only injury reported was a broken finger in the Arboretum, where a man had ignored Le Roque’s injunction for everyone to stay secured and had caught his hand in an unsprung door that slammed shut during the last course change.

Checking further on the human population, Saul found he could not locate Var through any of the cams, but from previous footage knew she was in her mobile overseer’s office, where Langstrom had recently visited her. Maybe she was confessing her sins and being arrested. Saul found it difficult to find any kind of emotional reaction to that thought. Meanwhile, the prospective rebels had gathered together in a single accommodation unit, then abruptly gone off the radar by doubtless travelling through the cam black spots, which Saul had provided, out towards the old station ring. At the same time, still attached to the armour just twenty metres away from Saul himself, their bomb continued its countdown. He considered, at that moment, sending robots to locate and kill them all, but that could be done if his primary plan – involving his minimal interference and subtle manipulation – failed. No, leave them to it, and allow them to die from their own stupidity.

There were new flickers now off the faces of flakes of methane ice, so it seemed that communications from Earth were sent by the same sort of laser, but using different encryption. One hour passed and soon Saul was perfectly positioned to pick up the laser reflections from the hull of the
Vision
itself. He played with the code, found the inversions and sketched the shape of the mind behind it – the mind that had taken the first code and changed it – and he managed to crack it in just thirty-four seconds. It was laughably easy, and Saul was banishing a human feeling of superior contempt from his mind when reality caught up and sank its teeth into him. The
Vision
had received a reply to the concerns of its captain. The
Fist
and the
Command
were on their way and, since they were travelling within spitting distance of the speed of light, they would be following not far behind the message itself.

Earth

‘You’re certain these are clear?’ asked Admiral Bartholomew once he saw that the visual feed from the
Vision
had been restored.

‘They are clear,’ confirmed the comlifer Christopher Shivers.

Apparently the man was the most trustworthy of them all, having never tried to rebel openly or even to kill himself during his conditioning, but Bartholomew did not like to put too much trust in someone who obeyed only on pain of . . . pain. He put the image feed on hold, since everything coming through was, of course, old and would probably be irrelevant by the time they arrived out there.

‘He used a visual-cortex reprogramming technique rather cleverly combined with a self-assembling worm,’ Shivers added. ‘It’s possible he might try something else but, so long as all this sort of data is routed through me, there will be no more deaths like those that occurred aboard the
Vision
.’

That incident had been quite horrible. Two of the four-person tactical team on duty at the time had dropped into some kind of coma, another had acquired himself a Kalashtech and opened fire on other crew members, killing two and injuring eight before being brought down by a disabler, while the fourth member had been found sitting at his console, having used his ceramic dinner fork to gouge out his own eyes. Here the effect had not been as bad: the two people assessing the images and data had turned on each other, but managed to do little damage before being grabbed and restrained by ship’s security officers. Bartholomew shuddered, considering how other tasks had kept him from his usual visit to Tactical to inspect the same images.

He glanced round at his command crew, all busily at work on the final diagnostic runs and checks. He clicked a screen tab for the latest updates from the medics aboard both the
Command
and the
Fist
and was relieved to see that no instances of the Scour had yet been reported. Then he again addressed his comlifer.

‘So, since we destroyed that satellite, Saul has no access to data from Earth apart from anything he can pick up with his telescopes, which will therefore be already out of date,’ he said.

‘Not unless he’s found another way around causality,’ Shivers replied.

An image up in the corner of the big curved screen facing Bartholomew’s chair showed the construction station rapidly receding. Presently both the
Fist
and the
Command
were under fusion drive, putting themselves between the brightness of Earth and distant Jupiter, and both using a shielding technique that had hidden the station in which the
Scourge
had been built – coherent projection of whatever lay behind it towards any eyes that might be looking, in this case some pink eyes out in orbit of the gas giant Jupiter itself. Alan Saul would not know that the message to the
Vision
, which he had certainly intercepted after so quickly cracking their communications, had in fact been a lie; and that Bartholomew’s two ships were not yet on their way out and would not be underway for half an hour.

‘Let’s hope this has worked,’ he said.

‘The
Vision
was blind and in danger,’ Shivers replied. ‘Even though targeting remained available for its warp missile, it could not use it because Saul was approaching on conventional drive, and the impact would have completely destroyed his ship. The
Vision
’s choices were then either to fight or to move. If it had fought, it would have lost. Due to Saul’s approach velocity, it could only have used its Alcubierre drive to move, and in that case there was a chance that Saul would have run – and then, especially with the warp missile balancing delay, we would have lost him.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ said Bartholomew.

‘The assessment of our tactical team,’ Shivers lectured him, ‘or rather of those of them not presently in Medical, was that, upon intercepting that message, he will run, whereupon the
Vision
can use its warp missile, and the plan can continue as before. My own assessment is the same. Even though he’s obviously decided to become a bit more proactive, he’ll see no benefit in hanging round to face us.’

‘Let’s hope they’re right.’

‘We won’t know until we are there,’ Shivers replied.

Bartholomew nodded to himself: by the time any data from the
Vision
regarding how things had transpired out there reached the
Command
and the
Fist
, they would already be under drive and unable to receive it. The admiral again considered the possibility of dropping the
Command
out of Alcubierre drive in order to receive that data, and he finally made his decision. Yes, he would. In tactical terms it was not such a great idea to divide one’s forces, but if Saul had managed to escape the trap laid for him, they needed to know, for there was a remote chance, depending on whatever route Saul took out of the solar system, of the
Command
being able to use its own warp missile to stop him.

Bartholomew issued his orders, then opened a channel to Captain Oerlon, aboard the
Fist
, to keep him apprised.

‘The disabling shot from the
Vision
should at least take me out of the balancing delay time,’ said Oerlon, tugging at the thick collar of a gel-tank acceleration suit. ‘I’ll make final approach through the Jovian system on fusion, and if he manages to get his drive functioning before I’m on him, I should be able to knock him out again.’

‘You’ll make sure it’s an accurate shot,’ said Bartholomew.

Oerlon, who was a morose-looking individual with a large straggly beard, pale sick-looking skin and some sort of gang tattoo on his temple, nodded gravely and said, ‘None of us can afford to miss.’

The essence of their tactical problem was that Saul could run at any time, and the only way of stopping him was with a warp missile, and they had only four of them: the
Fist
had two and the
Vision
and the
Command
had one each. While the vector calculations made before firing these missiles would be very accurate, and little could change their course once they were fired, the distances involved were huge and the margin for error minimal. Including the acquisition of further tactical data, this was the main reason Bartholomew had ordered the
Vision
to move in closer to Saul’s vessel. Out of pride, Bartholomew did not want that first critical shot to miss, and beyond that he was aware of what would happen to him if Saul escaped – which was precisely what Oerlon meant.

‘Twenty-three minutes to go,’ said Bartholomew, feeling his stomach tightening.

Within a day, perhaps two, they would either have succeeded or would be contemplating whether or not it was worth returning to Earth.

Argus

Var eased her grip on the stanchion and glanced out the windows of the overseer’s office, but received no clue there about their sudden recent course change.

‘Le Roque tells me he’s taking us towards that ship over Europa.’ Langstrom shook his head. ‘But I’ve not had warnings to prepare for any kind of battle.’

‘Don’t you think we should deal with those concerns that we
can
deal with?’ Var suggested.

He nodded doubtfully, and continued, ‘The two who were in the accommodation below Tech Central moved over to join the others’ – he glanced at Var – ‘probably because of this alleged bomb. Just a short while ago, however, they all trooped out and disappeared into the nearest cam black spot.’

‘We need to act,’ Var asserted.

‘But you have no real evidence of any of this, and you continue being evasive about how you obtained this information. It needs to be verified. You also say that he already knows about this plot, so he certainly knows all about the bomb too.’

‘He’ll probably let it blow but not be there himself when it happens,’ said Var, not really sure of her own reasoning. ‘Either that or he’s disarmed it.’

‘So why am I here?’ the police commander asked. ‘You’ve given me nothing I can act on and it seems to me that, if what you’re telling me is true, he probably has something already planned for them.’ He gestured towards the mosaic of mug shots displayed on the screen. ‘As he’s stated, we have to look after ourselves, but he’ll react to any direct danger to the ship or himself. Perhaps you can explain your part in this, sister of Alan Saul . . . our
Owner
.’

Var studied the police commander for a long moment, with a sinking sensation in her stomach. She felt sure she had lost him now, but she had to try.

‘The question that has to be asked is what will be the extent of his reaction to this,’ she replied, still unsure of herself but determined to do
something
. ‘Hannah Neumann once told me that her greatest fear is that Alan will tire of having to fit all his plans about the needs of the human population aboard this ship – aboard
his
ship. We all know that he is entirely capable of running it now without us. I’ve known from the moment I stepped aboard that, though I was appointed overseer of the rebuild, my position has been completely superfluous. The implants that enable us to control robots and mentally access the ship’s systems were an apparent effort to raise us above our uselessness to him, and what’s been the result of that? Combined robot and human teams are less efficient than the new robots he’s created, and now chipped rebels are seeking to kill him.’

‘The extent of his reaction, you said?’ Langstrom prompted.

‘He might just be searching for a reason to be rid of us altogether,’ said Var, studying the man’s expression, ‘and this attack on him could provide it. He could turn his robots on us in an instant, and then be free of the encumbrance we represent.’ She paused to collect her thoughts. ‘I don’t think he will do that, though I think we’ll all be heading soon for the Meat Locker, and whether we wake up again after that sleep is . . . debatable.’

‘I’m still not sure what you want me to do,’ said Langstrom.

‘We stop it,’ Var replied, searching for some way to couch things for Langstrom – a man who had probably stuck her brother high on a pedestal. ‘As I see it, he’s given us power over our own affairs and we must therefore take responsibility. I think his recent actions indicate that he
wants
us to take responsibility; that he
demands
us to do so and that, if we don’t, he’ll simply finish with us.’

Second guessing the mind of a god
, reflected Var, trying to keep the sneer off her face.

‘He’ll have something in place to deal with the threat,’ she continued. ‘Of course he will. But if he is forced to use it, then he’ll see us all as useless as he has already supposed. We must act.’