Bayley, Barrington J - Novel 10 (16 page)

 
          
On
board
ICS Standard Bearer
the command
staff also watched the behaviour of Earth's moon in perplexity. Having mopped
up those fugitives who had fled to the fourth planet, they had held back from
pursuing the sole blip to be seen plunging into Earth's atmosphere, believing
they were about to witness one of the rarest of sights: the destruction of an
inhabited world through planetary collision. The business was made more eerie
by the absence of the panicky exodus one might have expected; but this, Archier
learned, was due to all available ships having left for Mars several days
earlier.

 
          
Now
the satellite was half a million miles from its onetime primary, and appeared
to be following an independent orbit about the sun. Yet at its closest it had
practically ploughed through Earth's atmosphere!

 
          
"Well,"
Archier said to his chief engineer, the only crew member he could think of who
might be an expert in such matters, "is it possible?"

 
          
"What,
Admiral?"

 
          
"Is
it possible for gravity to cease between two orbiting bodies?"

 
          
The
chief engineer, a rangy gorilla, scratched his head in puzzlement. "No
sir, it isn't. When two bodies gravitate the whole weight of the universe is
behind them, so to speak. I don't understand it."

 
          
"There's
got to be an explanation."

 
          
"Well
never mind about that now," Gruwert squealed. "Our orders are to hunt
down rebels. It's safe to move in now so let's get on with it."

 
          
"First
of all we shall have to reply to Earth Council."

 
          
The
ships of Ten-Fleet were again beginning to gather round their flagship, a fact
that had not escaped notice on Earth. For once, the presence of an Imperial
fleet caused more comfort than alarm. Since Earth and the moon now shared
nearly the same orbit in ignorance of one another, it would only be a matter of
time before they
did
collide. Plans
were already afoot to disintegrate the errant satellite or direct it into the
sun. The fleet had been requested to render assistance with a planet-buster
bomb.

 
          
The
request had caused Archier wry amusement. It was universally assumed all Imperial
fleets had magazines full of planet-busters. In fact Ten-Fleet did not have any
at all. Their production had always been strictly limited and since the onset
of the robot strike replacement of their degradable cores had very nearly
ceased. He had heard Seventeen-Fleet still had
a few in
working order
.

 
          
He
turned to Arctus. "Tell them it would be too dangerous to disintegrate the
satellite at one blow. Too many pieces would be flying around. Tell them to
work out a solution using conventional FE."

 
          
A
voice sounded in his ear.
"Claire de
Lune
has joined formation, Admiral."

 
          
"What?
She was supposed to have
been abandoned."

 
          
"Evidently not."

 
          
"What's
her report?"

 
          
"No word from her at all yet.
I think her
communications are out."

 
          
"Well
they'll sort it out, I suppose." He was about to give the mental 'turning
away' signal when his caller, the Fleet Manoeuvres Officer, continued:
"Actually that isn't what I really called to tell you. The Fast Barge is
approaching. We've received its blazon burst."

 
          
Archier
didn't reply at once. A shiver of nervousness went through him.

 
          
"How soon?"

 
          
"Within the hour."

 
          
"All
right, FMO. Thank you."

 
          
He
sat brooding. Then he turned to those around him. "Did you all catch
that?"

 
          
They
nodded.

 
          
"It
looks," he said, "as if we might finally find out what's been going
on in Diadem ..."

 
          
The
Fast Barge was the property of the now defunct High Command. Consisting of
little more than living quarters and a gigantic feetol drive unit, it was
capable of reaching almost any part of the Empire in a remarkably short time.
Ostensibly its purpose was to assist in state occasions in the outer parts of
the Empire. In reality it was kept in reserve for use in an emergency, to carry
messages too important or too risky to send by leader tone transmission, or as
a getaway vehicle . . .

 
          
As
the barge slowed down and passed the outskirts of the planetary system, its
leader tone blazon announced the presence of dignitaries aboard.
Minutes later Archier, in full dress uniform, waited in the
reception bay with his other command officers as the barge drew alongside.

 
          
It
was an impressive sight as seen on the wall screen. Nearly as big as the
flagship itself, it was gridded and grilled with designs of gold and rose-pink.
The shape was unusual: resembling more than anything else some over-lavishly
pet-ailed flower or orchid and owing nothing to utility.

 
          
There
was a resonant
splang
as the
connecting passage between the two ships sprang into place. Padding through the
broad opening
came
a party headed by two tall and
broad-shouldered men of mature years whom Archier instantly recognised: they
were the Admiral Overlords Crane and Oblescu, members of the High Command
Staff. But instead of dress uniform they were wearing office attire that looked
stained and crumpled. Their faces were weary, even overwrought.

 
          
An
assortment of animals accompanied them: a rather scruffy enlarged mouse that
scuttled alongside Crane, whiskers twitching; two dogs, a small horse and a
sad-looking panda. Archier saluted smartly. Casually, the overlords responded.

 
          
"By
space, but I need a pick-me-up," Crane said. "Can we go and relax
somewhere? Being on that barge is like riding a roller-coaster."

 
          
"Of
course, sir," Archier said stiffly. He waved back the others of his
command staff and conducted the overlords to the small travelator coach that
was waiting. Only the mouse— adjutant to one of the overlords, he
presumed—followed them, climbing in the back of the vehicle alongside Arctus.

 
          
They
zipped into the innards of the flagship, arriving at a small reception lounge
Archier used for informal Force meetings. Crane and Oblescu slumped down
immediately on chair-couches, while Arctus opened up the hospitality cabinet.

 
          
"What
would you like, overlords?" he asked softly.
"Imbibables?
Smoke?
Sprays or airs?"

 
          
"Give
me a hash fizz," Oblescu said, "and make it good and strong."

 
 
          
Crane
nodded in answer to Arctus' questioning trunk. The little elephant busied
himself, pouring a delicate lavender fluid into three tall goblets and
pressurising it with cannabis gas until it frothed.

 
          
Having
quaffed and asked for more, the overlords relaxed
a
little. "Well, you'd better know the reason why we're
here," Crane said, his tone one of tired resignation. "First of
all,
you know High Command doesn't
really exist anymore?"

 
          
Archier
nodded, toying with his goblet. "I had guessed
the
staff has been sent out to the fleets."

 
          
"Oh,
it was only partly that. The Command was
really
shut down because the Imperial Council doesn't trust it any more! Things
are in chaos in Diadem, the Council itself has practically collapsed. The
Whole-Earth-Biotists have come to the fore again. You might as well know
there's practically
a
civil war in
the making. They're talking about bringing back the Emperor Protector. This
time he's to be
a
Whole-Earth
chimera. Genes from every permitted animal will be incorporated. If they get
their way, that is."

 
          
Archier
took the news with as much equanimity as
he
could. He had Protector
sympathies
himself. He
was, however, far from being a Whole-Earth-Biotist. He had taken it
for
granted that the Protector would
have one hundred per
cent
human
genes.

 
          
"But
what has this got to do with High Command?"
he
queried.

 
          
"Aagh."
Crane gave a gesture of exasperation,
which
slopped fizz on his already
stained uniform. "The Council ordered fleets
Three
and Twenty-Nine recalled so it could be sure of maintaining order. Then it came
to light Seventeen and Twenty-Nine are riddled with Biotist sympathisers.
Can
you imagine what this did to High
Command in the Council's eyes? To top it all Carusier defected to the Biotists.
An Admiral Overlord! Pending a review, the Council
doesn't
trust Star Force at all now. It wants all the fleets kept
out of Diadem, though personally I think only Seventeen and
Twenty-
Nine are affected."

 
          
"Only?"
Archier echoed.
"Isn't mat enough?"

 
          
Arctus
had stood paralysed with shock while the
Admiral
Overlord spoke. He turned and muttered something to
the
mouse,
who
shook his head dolefully.

 
          
"How
could this happen?" Archier asked in anguish. He looked from one overlord
to the other. "What went wrong?"

           
Oblescu jumped to his feet and paced
the room. His face was distraught. "There are just too many problems! The
fleets unable to handle things any longer, uprisings all over the place—Escoria
hasn't been the only one! We simply don't have proper resources available any
more! What with that and the lack of proper political organisation In Diadem
... the state has been falling to pieces for some time. And now this latest
disaster is one shock too many."

 
          
"Disaster?
What disaster?" Archier put down his
drink.

 
          
"That's
the reason we are here," Crane said. "Ten-Fleet has a rather special
job to do. There's something extraordinary been going on in a region some
thirty light-years galactic west of here."

 
          
He
paused, as if wondering how to break the news. "We have a feetol research
station not far from there. We think the work it's been doing must have caused
it. They weren't
trying
to get into
the Simplex . . . only to advance the state of the art, stretching recession
lines still farther for a faster future generation of Star Force ships. They must
have gone too far. Space has opened up. There is some sort of
rent
in it, about a light year across
and getting bigger. Do you grasp my meaning? The Simplex is on the other side
of it! The scientists say once three-dimensional space starts to tear like that
it might all come undone." He clapped a hand to his forehead. "Our
universe could roll up like a scroll, as the saying is!"

 
          
While
Arctus deftly and silently presented fresh drinks, Archier stared at Crane in
bewilderment bordering on disbelief. "But I've never heard anything to
suggest the feetol drive could damage spacetime like this," he objected.

 
          
"No,
no one thought it could."

 
          
"Well
what is required of me?"

 
          
"Ah.
Well, the Council wants you to proceed in the direction of the rent and investigate.
We didn't want to send it over the spacewaves—the whole thing has been hushed
up, naturally—so I had orders to deliver the message personally. Having done
that, I personally plan to retire in some out-of-the-way spot." Crane
shrugged. "Of course, as you're in Condition Autonomy, you can really do
what you like. In fact, as we belong to a defunct command we don't even outrank
you any more!"