Great North Road (89 page)

“Well, I’ll be making an announcement about that later today. It’s going to be very clear on our mission requirement.”

“We’re staying, aren’t we? It’s logical. We’re the ones the alien is targeting, and this is what the whole expedition is about. Someone with balls is making real decisions.”

“Would you care to name who’s been rumbling?”

“Karizma Wadhai. She’s really not happy about being here, thinks HDA should be doing more to protect us or evacuate us.”

“I thought you’d finger Davinia.”

“Yeah, her, too.”

“Don’t worry about Karizma, I’ll sort that out.”

“You know what I don’t understand,” Angela said.

“What’s that?”

“Why we’re not already dead.”

“Why are you saying that?”

“Being back here. Sometimes you forget just how big St. Libra is. It takes an event like this—” She waved up at the borealis streamers smeared across the roseate sky. “—an entire star going crazy.
Then
you remember how big it is, the sheer scale of everything here. So tell me, Elston, how many aliens are living on this world do you think? A hundred million? Ten billion? There’s enough room for ten times that number without even starting to overcrowd. And we have just one coming after us. One! It doesn’t make much sense, does it. Where the fuck are they? Where are their villages? Their cities? Their farms?”

“The xenobiology team is convinced St. Libra was bioformed. The plant genetics are too sophisticated to have evolved here. Sirius simply isn’t old enough.”

“And there aren’t any fossils.”

“That too.”

“So, what? This is a lone protector sentry the bioformers left behind to guard the jungle? Armed with five knives?”

He gave her a soft smile. “I hadn’t considered it in quite those terms.”

“You should have. You flew over the algaepaddies on the same flight as me. We’re screwing this planet over just like all the others we contaminate. Small wonder the protector wants to get rid of us one at a time.”

“You believe that?” Elston asked.

“I’ve seen it at work. It’s a killing machine, one without mercy.”

“How did you survive that night? And forget the bull about fighting it.”

Angela grinned, sadly amused by how easily they slipped back into their historic roles. “Everything I told you was the truth. One day you’ll see that. If you’re still alive.”

“The truth, but not all of it, right?”

“Ah, now you’re starting to understand. Well done, you.”

“High praise. Thanks.”

“One other question,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Why do you think it’s just targeting us, Wukang? Why not any of the others?”

“I’m not sure. It remembers you, maybe?”

Angela gave his blank face a close scrutiny. It was far too composed. He would never have lasted a second in any poker game with New Monaco residents. “Oh I think we both know that isn’t true.”

“Go back into the mess tent and put your armor vest back on, please. I need to make my morning call to Abellia. We’ll be finishing the new building panels today, so I’ll need the figures on our remaining raw capacity when they’re done.”

Angela gave him a mocking salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Colonel. I’m a colonel now.”

Vance went directly to his office, not even glancing back to see if Angela did as he’d asked. He was slightly unnerved by her question. Which was something he should have expected; the camp was bound to start wondering why they were being singled out. It had to be the weapon. Somehow the alien knew, or sensed it.
That or Angela really does have an accomplice; after all, somebody sabotaged the Daedalus.
Which was possibly even more unnerving.

He sat behind his desk and resisted the impulse to turn the heating on. Must conserve fuel. Condensation was beading every surface, as if a lake mist had gushed through the Qwik-Kabin during the night.

His e-i called Vice Commissioner Passam’s interface address code, then switched to a secure linkage. The response was from Jaclyn Waruts, the expedition comptroller, a GE staffer, not HDA.

“Where’s Passam?” Elston asked.

“I’m sorry, Colonel, the vice commissioner is unavailable.”

“Unavailable?” Vance asked incredulously. “You mean she’s dropped off-net? Where is she?”

“Her absence is temporary. I have full authority to speak for her.”

Vance considered that. Nobody was ever off-net; in this day and age it simply didn’t happen. So what was she doing that was more important than receiving a call from a forward-camp commander? “I’d like to talk about some resupply flights.”

“Absolutely,” Waruts said. “The aircrews are already reconfiguring a Daedalus to a tanker role. It should be ready in another week. We’ll assess the Eclipse Mountain situation then. Hopefully they’ll be able to fly by then.”

“They are HDA planes. They can fly across it now, there’s enough redundancy in their systems to withstand multiple lightning strikes. We’re using up a lot of raw constructing new buildings, we need more. And I’d also like additional Legionnaires. You have several squads at Abellia.”

“Colonel, I appreciate your position, but our risk assessment of the Eclipse Mountain conditions is that a flight over them is too hazardous.”

“The alien this expedition was put together to find is here, now, killing us. I need assistance. This is the HDA, our troops know they will be exposed to jeopardy during operations.”

“Your pardon, Colonel, but they signed up to fight the Zanth. That is their assumed risk, not to be sent recklessly into hazardous weather.”

“And the hazard we face?”

“Colonel, you’ve accessed the same reports from the Newcastle police that I have. The North murder there was the result of an intercompany fight. If you want your people to be safe, I suggest you confine Angela Tramelo to quarters and find out who her accomplice is.”

“What’s left of our quarters are scattered across the mud. I need some help here.”

“A situation team is drawing up long-term emplacement protocols for all the forward camps. We’ll be sending them to you in a couple of days; they’ll explain how to maximize your existing resources.”

“I am fully aware we’re staying here. But if I’m going to keep this mission together and functional, you’re going to have to find a way of getting equipment, fuel, and supplies to me. All you have to do is fly a Daedalus around the western end of the Eclipse Mountains to get it to Sarvar. They certainly have the range to do that. Once it’s at Sarvar it can just ship cargo out to us without your
risk
. I know the existing stockpile there is sufficient to keep it operating for a month if necessary.”

“That is an option we’re actively considering. But no decision can be taken until the vice commissioner has conferred with HDA command.”

“When will she be back on-net?”

“Soon, Colonel, I assure you. Hopefully before the end of the day.”

“I want to know as soon as she is. I want her to call me.”

“Of course.”

Vance watched Waruta’s icon shrink from his grid. “Get me Vermekia,” he told his e-i.

“We don’t know where Passam is,” Vermekia said.

“We’re the AIA, we know where everybody is.”

“I’ll need to talk to our people at Abellia. It won’t take long.”

“What about getting a Daedalus back to Sarvar? The western route around the side of the mountains should be safe enough.”

“Theoretically, yes, but that’s a long way around; the e-Ray can’t quite see where the range finishes. If anything does go wrong, the crew will be beyond range of the helicopters at Edzell or Sarvar.”

“I’ve got a hostile alien roaming around out here. From our understanding of the plants, it could well be the forward scout for a whole species. Dear Lord, this is what the HDA exists for.”

“I know. Listen, Vance, as soon as you verify existence I can get help to you inside of an hour, okay. The general himself will authorize a war gateway to Wukang. We can drop fifty Daedaluses into your airspace. You’re not isolated, and we haven’t forgotten you. Just get us the proof.”

“All right. No one likes being bait, you know.”

“I understand. We appreciate what you’re doing out there.”

After she’d put her armor vest back on and finished her lukewarm breakfast, Angela went over to the microfacture team. Their shack had been extended with a patchwork of thick sheeting and composite panels, two days’ work for the ingenious minds of the microfacture team, growing their domain mushroom-fashion. She pushed aside a heavy flap and went inside. It was noticeably warmer with the two main print extruders running constantly. They were churning out battleship-gray hexagonal panels one and a half meters in diameter, with clever lock studs along the edges to fasten them together.

Karizma Wadhai and Ophelia Troy who made up the microfacture team had been joined by Wukang’s pilots and aircrew, who were currently redundant and had a wealth of technical expertise to contribute. Ever since the hailstones trashed the tents, they’d all been working on constructing replacement accommodation. Elston didn’t want the camp to be on the retreat, to make do; huddling under a patched-up tent drained them of confidence, turned them into victims. Their mission couldn’t be conducted on those terms.

Ophelia Troy had designed the panels. The lock studs had needed some tweaking, but the panels could now be clicked together quickly and easily to form simple igloo-like domes.

There was another hour of production, with the hexagons sliding out of the extruders to be stacked with the rest, before Karizma announced they had enough to build the first five domes. Angela joined the work party.

She had to admit it, Elston had been right. It felt good to be doing something constructive. With her armor jacket on while she worked she became almost as warm as she had been before the sunspot outbreak, though thankfully the humidity was considerably reduced. She and Tork Ericson worked as a pair, lifting the hexagons into space for the dome building crew to snap the lock studs together. They weren’t heavy, which was part of the problem—they caught the wind easily, and their size made maneuvering awkward; the pair of them had to strain to wrestle them into them in place.

Despite that, the second dome was in place by midday; five meters across, with an entrance archway that was due to have inner and outer curtain doors, sealable against the wind and rain. A team armed with brushes began to slap epoxy glue on the outside of the first dome, ready for some salvaged squares of PV tent sheeting to be stuck over. Olrg Dorchev and Leif Davdia began the finicky job of wiring them to batteries, and laying cable to the camp’s main fuel cells.

“No windows,” Angela realized, squinting up at the apex of the second dome, which Ravi and Chris Fiadeiro had hammered into place, cursing with every blow—the lock studs were supposed to make assembly easy, a child’s model kit, Karizma promised.

“There’s a raw combination that can do transparent at the strength we need,” Ophelia told her. “But we don’t have much of it. Doesn’t matter, the domes are just for sleeping in, and no windows means we’ll keep this damn borealis light out.”

Angela and Tork moved on to the newly laid floor of the fourth dome, itself a grid of the ubiquitous hexagons. She quickly took off her armored vest and long-sleeved shirt, then pulled the vest back on over her T-shirt. Sweat gleamed on her skin, cutting channels through the dirt. She could feel it on her face, too, and grinned. Once, she had employed someone whose sole job it was to keep her skin in perfect condition, with oils and massage and monitored UV exposure. Once. In someone else’s life long ago. Angela couldn’t even remember her dermatologist’s name, nor what she’d looked like. With Tork, they hefted another of the big hexagons and held it where Darwin Sworowski indicated. It
clunk
ed into the edge of the base, and Darwin shoved a triangle into the gap at the side.

They’d gotten the first two rows of hexagons into place when Elston called everyone to lunch. Angela didn’t protest. Red Sirius was invisible now, isolated behind a dense low cloud front that was sliding in from the northwest, bringing stronger, cooler gusts with it. Always the sound of thunder grumbled over the vast landscape as threads of lightning flickered along the far horizon. She needed the break, and that heavy bank of cloud wasn’t going to be good news. She could envisage them finishing off the last of the domes in the pounding rain of a real St. Libra monsoon.

Mohammed, Leora, Paresh, and Lieutenant Botin himself were slogging around another eternal circuit of the perimeter while the rest of the camp slipped into the mess tent. Elston set up a ringlink to them as he stood up and called for everyone’s attention.

“HDA has officially canceled the Zanthswarm alert. Those sensor satellites they pushed through didn’t find any abnormal quantum fluctuations in the Sirius system. However, the sunspot outbreak is continuing. Apparently that means we now have to consider preparing for much colder weather than we were expecting.”

“How long until we get an evac flight?” Karizma asked.

“This is a fully functional HDA camp, part of a large and expensive HDA expedition that came here with one purpose,” Elston replied. “We now have explicit proof the alien we’re seeking is close by. We will not be running away from that simply because the weather turned unpleasant; I will not despoil the memories of those who have given their lives getting us where we are.” At that he stared at Karizma until she lowered her own gaze.

“This creature will be tracked down and its origin and purpose determined,” he continued. “I’m hoping for some resupply flights from Sarvar before too long, but you can clear any thoughts of flying back home right out of your heads. We’re here for the long haul, people, make no mistake about that. Now, the domes should be completed by tonight. Tomorrow we are going to reestablish some order and security to this camp. After that, our mission will move forward again. That is all.”

There were a lot of silent meaningful glances flashing around the table where Angela sat as people resumed their meal. She was guilty of joining in.

“That’ll shut Karizma up,” Gillian said quietly.