Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy (31 page)

[You're not going to sniff its rear are you?] She asked.

[Oh this is just our little game]

[Uh huh . . . and what are they doing]

[Ignoring me, pretending they don't care]

[And how do you know that?] She asked, taking everything in, the ships immense size, flight decks centre ship on both sides and raked out, presumably so that smaller vessels could approach on an angle from the rear,
while she's running on fusion power?

He didn't answer, settling them into a stationary position, bow to bow around two kilometers apart, like a game of chicken.

Regan stood and walked to the small galley. Pouring coffee she returned to centre control and stood there, legs apart, braced, coffee cradled in both hands blowing gently over the surface and staring at the behemoths nose.
What are they thinking?

On the Coran ship Merryl sat calmly, one long leg crossed over the other, his chin resting on an arm propped on the rest, his eyes fixed on the black wedge aforeships. He too was clearly thinking. A slight smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He contemplated the moment coming, the moment of capitulation, when she would either yield or be abandoned by the fearful. Privately he hoped they would hold out and test his resolve.
You are an insect, and I am a patient hunter. I can wait.

She looked past the Warship searching the background for shapes. "Where are the ADF's?"

"They're out there, too small to see from here with your eyes, even that left one."

Suddenly the screen view changed to a schematic with the Coran warship at centre. Surrounding the vessel she could see a screen of small shapes, holding station motionless, equidistant from each other. Their own position at the front of the ship looked somehow quite ridiculous and provocative.

"Why don't they fire on us?" Regan asked.

"There are two answers to that question; one is what they tell themselves, the other is closer to the truth. They tell themselves they are the stronger; that they are in control. They have issued the challenge and the ball is now in Earths courts, as you are want to say. Looking us in the eye here and not reacting is a demonstration of their confident superiority."

"And the real reason . . . ?"

"They're nervous understandably. They lost two of their best back in Gliese, and they don't know how we did it. Hence they don't threaten us, just in case we have something over them. Instead they threaten, not us but our friends, and in doing so they remind us that even if we do have something over them, others will come after them, and many will die."

"Then we need a lasting solution Ham."

"I await your word with warm wiring."

Her eyes were still glued forward as if trying to outstare them. "It's a big ship, what's their technology like?"

"Compared with Earths, it's light years ahead. Compared with ours they're backward, a very, very distant second place."

"When you say ours, you mean . . ."

"I mean ours, yours and mine."

"Really, ours is that much better?"

"Regan I don't think you realize. You think Mariners technology was everybody's, it wasn't. Oh sure the others have exotic matter power sources, displacers, warp drives, neural webs and the like. But there are levels of sophistication. Mariner was a lead in developing the technology which they all benefit from. But Mariner tinkered tuned and incorporated new developments all the time. Comparing their ship to The STEIN, well they simply don't compare and now with Aarons tinkering, they're falling light years behind again."

"He's that good, I had no idea." She was amazed.

"You should access a bit more of the data available to you. Don't be offended but you've been distracted lately. You need to let your creative side back into the game."

"Actually I do feel the right is enjoying more time in the sun."

"Sure, you're having fun, but don't toss out your accountant. Some of your best work is when both sides are working together with a bit of disciplined focus. It would be useful if you spent a bit of time talking to Aaron. Something tells me more of his 'out there' ideas would come to fruition if he was working with you."

"So what's an 'out there' idea look like?"

"Well, for example, now that he has access to the virtually unlimited power sources we enjoy, and to Mariners dream notes, you should see how his thoughts are developing on worm holes."

She sat silent for a while considering just that thought. "Hmm, now you have piqued my interest . . . I'll make a point of it." Then she drifted off again.

"Regan, I can see you're thinking, but I can't read it, what are you screening from me?"

"Sorry" and she leant forward, resting her chin on her hands, still staring at the Coran vessel, "I didn't even realize I was doing it. I was thinking . . . Ham . . . I want that ship."

"I want to destroy it too. Don't worry I've got it all planned."

"No . . . I mean I want it, I have a use for it, and for a good many of those crew. I said it before Ham, we need a lasting solution and that ship will help us get it."

"Now
that's
more like it. Action woman is back, come on, spill it, tell me more."

"Take us home first please, I've seen enough."

They seemed to hang there a moment longer, Ham slowly turning the interceptor's rear to the warship. And then, with a ridiculous display of power, he summoned maximum displacer speed to disappear in an illusory blink.

[I don't take for granted your feelings you know]

[I know]

[And I love you too]

[I know that too]

[That's good . . . Just to be clear]

* * *

For that brief time between waves and line change, contemplating the starscape proved a welcome relief. Marin sprawled over Regan's chair, ungainly and uncomfortable, considering the nature of existence. It was a fruitless exercise.

"Are you trying to punish yourself sitting like that?" Ham finally asked.

"I'm staying alert."

"You stay like that and you'll soon be inert. Talk to me, what's going on in that head?"

"We should have killed her;
I
should have killed her, while I could. Why didn't I Ham?"

"You're not mad enough Marin, close but not enough. Look matricide is a tough ask, it's not you and I'm glad it's not. You should be angry with me; I'd have no problem killing the witch."

"But you didn't."

"You know why
and
I regret it."

"Regan?"

"Regan and Sindali both. I wish I'd never heard them say it. Spare her life they said, spare her life . . . well, I wonder what they'd say now?"

"You could have just ignored them."

There was silence for a moment, and then they both laughed.

"Still," Marin continued, "I can't leave this now. That woman will keep making people miserable as long as she lives. On top of that Sindali is in exile and something tells me they won't be safe from Beria, even on Tihan. I've got to go back."

"Let's get this over with first Marin. Something tells me that when Regan hears about Steph you won't need to go back alone."

Marin swung his long legs back down onto the floor. "How long have I got?"

"Until we get back . . . about three days, only this final line and we're there."

"Let's run in hot Ham, I'll go crazy crawling in from the belt."

Fresh focus motivated him and Marin plunged into his exercise routine. Punishing sets of every exercise he could dream up had been useful to distract him but also created a dilemma.
How can I turn up in the best shape in years, while Steph lies dead in that room?

* * *

Merryl ignored her as he escorted the young pilot to his quarters for briefing. Terrin fumed quietly at her station. He hadn't called for her since the demand for Stein and his attention had been focused solely on the next phase of his plan. Not so focused however that he didn't find time to bond with the youthful deliverer of his vengeance.

Terrin missed nothing. As Technical Officer she could access visuals from every cabin, corridor and flight deck, even the most private spaces on ship. Today she couldn't bring herself to make the intrusion. If she saw the nervous officer one more time spread against that wall or on her knees before him Terrin would go crazy. She rose, quickly entering the lift and punched for the decks before she could change her mind.

The doors opened to the main flight deck and she stood for a moment taking in the two huge bombers being prepped for tomorrow's flight.
So much for promises Earth, you will learn what I know only too well. Merryl is a monster.
The thought didn't stop her going about her tasks, final technical checks on all systems and confirmation the missiles were armed and programmed as she had instructed. Merryl had not been pleased to see hordes leaving the City of Wellington, or the planes and shiploads of fearful escaping Hawaii. No, they would strike hard and early, on both Wellington and Hawaii.
Then we will see how long they hide Stein
. Six days, not seven or eight, the element of surprise and unpredictability, a great way to spread terror.

* * *

Leah walked back into Control on The STEIN Traveler, a coffee in each hand and no real expectation that Regan would indulge. She could tell nothing had changed since she left for the galley. Regan looked comfortable, that at least was a relief, but neither did she look remotely present. Anyone not familiar with Regan's transformation would have been extremely concerned. Leah however understood completely. It was still the stuff of occasional nightmares although she had never mentioned it to her friend. However it
was
time for a break and her patience was wearing thin. Regan could be roaming cyberspace for hours if left to her own devices and Leah judged it wasn't healthy. She strolled over and drifted the steaming mug under Regan's nose, back and forward, slewing the brew around until she could see the nostrils twitching. Knowing she was coming around Leah relaxed into the adjacent seat and waited.

"You could have just called you know." Regan spoke before opening her eyes and smiled, extending her hand for her favorite drop.

"This is much more fun," Leah carefully placed the coffee in the dangling hand. "So, where were you before you were so rudely interrupted?"

"I was in a little ADF with Ham watching the ship. The flight decks are open. Something is happening I'm sure of it."

"We've still got a day, why would they bother going early?"

"It's the terrorist operandi. Uncertainty is far more powerful than predictability. When nothing is predictable you can keep a population in fear twenty four seven. The bastards are going to go early I'm sure of it."

"You need to rest Regan. When was the last time you had a decent sleep?"

Regan opened her eyes and turned to look at her friend. "I can't believe how fast you have managed to get deep in here," and she tapped her heart. "Thank you for looking out for me, but honestly, things are on the move. Help me hold it together for the next few days and we'll be through the worst, I'm sure of it. Ham is confident we can win this, I just wish we could control the panic down there," and she pointed downward. They both knew there had been four days of mayhem. "God Leah, I can't believe more people have been killed trying to escape cities than are likely to be even injured in this conflict, if there even is one."

Leah dropped back into her chair. "The term 'nuclear strike' tends to have that effect, I think they can be forgiven for just a touch of panic don't you think?" She leant forward in concern. "What if you're right and they are moving early, Hawaii's been less spooked up till now, suppose they hit the Islands straight away too?"

Regan looked skyward, "Ham can we have the joy of your input too please, or are you otherwise occupied with some Aaronic love affair or other."

Ham didn't reply.

Regan and Leah exchanged glances.
What's up?

"Regan, give me a moment, I'm updating." There followed a long pause, and then, "Regan, Marin's back . . . and we need to talk." A chill seemed to pass through them both at his voice. He sounded dire.

Regan closed her eyes and followed the feed. This time Leah didn't interrupt, she could see from Regan's face whatever she was following was far too important to joke about. Only when she saw Regan curl up in her chair and the tears begin to roll down her cheek did she go to her, wrapping the now sobbing woman in her arms, desperate, no idea of what had happened but assuming the worst.

* * *

Rob Jarvis stood at the window of the top floor Beehive Cabinet room in Wellington.
Three days to go
. He swallowed hard. The hovering ADF's hung eerily in clear skies. Too high to pick out detail but there nonetheless, black wedges against a blue backdrop.
If they were moving they could be vultures
he thought gloomily. He leant on the back of the chair pushed up to the windows and nervously chewed at a nail, caught himself and shook the hand away as if he wanted to throw the habit. No sooner had he done that than his hands went to his head to massage his tense scalp furiously.
Shit I hope those bastards don't change their plans and hit Auckland.
His thoughts went to his family.
Is there anywhere safe? Regan, we're in your hands, shit, shit, shit!

He turned back to the two remaining Cabinet Ministers still with him in Wellington. Maureen Collins, Minister of Foreign Affairs this term and Mr. fixit, Sid Elliot. For a moment Bob mused on how empty the room felt with the other twenty members of Cabinet setting up an emergency group in Auckland in case of the worst. He swallowed again, his mouth dry at the thought. "How many of the Embassies are still represented in town Maureen?"

"There are four Bob, Australia, the USA, Japan and surprisingly China. You've got to give it to them. They don't have to stay. It's either the supreme sacrifice or they have supreme confidence in STEIN."