The Ouroboros Wave (21 page)

Even if the Guardians knew I was down there, they couldn’t know where I might exit. They couldn’t come after me with guns
blazing, either. Not in the middle of all that gas.

What worries me isn’t the Guardians. It took far longer than I’d planned to free the generator and make it to the egress point without getting buried or blown up. Thanks to that, I don’t have
much prep time left. And the launch window is very tight.

This mass driver is underground. The tunnel they excavated keeps it safe from sandstorms and the temperature swings on the surface. They must’ve decided it wouldn’t pay to dismantle it. The galleries leading to the driver are chockablock with equipment that’s probably still usable. It looks like the miners might come back any
minute to start working again.

The superconducting magnets along the driver’s two-hundred-meter length are in good shape. I figured all I had to do was supply power to the capacitors, but now I’m facing another complication. The control system is in relatively decent condition, but it’s seen a lot of use. Some of the sensors for the packet guidance system are nonfunctional. Without these, there’s no way to aim the packets. If I’m going to blow away Ochiai’s ship, I’ve got to solve this problem. Fortunately the sensors aren’t complicated. I can put them back into action with electronic parts from the assortment I picked up
in Kobe for exactly this sort of contingency.

My bigger problem is the generator. Two of its three converters are out of commission, apparently because of the cave-in. They’re not damaged, but a protection circuit kicked in—maybe water got in somewhere it wasn’t supposed to. So now I’m looking at using
just one converter.

In its day, this mass driver could only be used during launch windows that would let it put its packets of ore into a Hohmann orbit, for rendezvous with Deimos. That was back before they changed the moon’s orbit. Outside the launch window, the system’s capacitors could be charged with a small mobile generator. When the timing was right, they discharged the stored energy all at once, firing packets of ore into space one after another from a huge stack,
like a machine gun.

The plan was to quickly charge the system and fire a barrage of projectiles. Now I’m wondering if that’s possible. I hurry to connect the generator. The mission will fail if I can’t juice up the capacitors in time. But if everything goes according to spec, Ochiai’s ship will be ripped to pieces, and it will be impossible to prove it was my
handiwork.

I log on to AADD Net using Gong-ru Yang’s password. I want to make sure Ochiai hasn’t changed his schedule. Everything’s nominal. The target is on course and on time. AADD takes schedules seriously. They’re masters at keeping their space traffic moving
like clockwork.

The attack principle is simple. At a given moment, object A and object B try to occupy the same space simultaneously, with the results one would expect. That’s really all there is to it. I was worried about getting the timing right, but things are looking good. The spacecraft carrying Chairman Ochiai will arrive with the precision that marks everything AADD does. And that’s what’s going to get him killed.

Minus 0 Hours 10 Minutes

“This mass driver the Terrans built is fairly small and simple. It looks like they decided to abandon it rather than spend the money to dismantle it. We haven’t touched it, since it’s not one of ours.”

The airship flew at maximum speed above the Martian surface. Most of the mass drivers on Mars had been dismantled after the completion of the orbital elevator. Now there were only a few left. Of these, only one offered a high probability of being part of Rahmya’s plan, but it wasn’t clear whether a team could reach the
site before the launch window opened.

All Guardian units were on alert. Units in transit to the camp of the murdered surveying team had been redirected to the mass driver, but they were certain to arrive even later than Shiran. Everything depended on whether Shiran and the team she had assembled at
short notice could locate Rahmya in time.

“Professor, are you sure this mass driver is really usable for some sort of attack?” Mikal was paging through the driver’s technical specifications, forwarded by the Industrial Technology Museum. “Deimos was repositioned as a counterweight for the elevator. It’s in a different orbit now. The elevator is even visible from here. No matter how fast a projectile leaves this mass driver, the launch angle is low. The apogee motor on each packet is tiny. It should be possible to reach 22,000 kilometers with one of these containers, but given the launch point, hitting Deimos is impossible. I think
we’re reading this wrong.”

“You said the velocity doesn’t matter. Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean, Professor?”

“Don’t forget, Mars is revolving. That added kick will boost the
packet to almost five klicks per second.”

“But by the time it reaches 22,000 kilometers, it will actually be
ahead of Tsutenkaku. How’s the packet going to hit it?”

“By climbing to 30,000 kilometers. Then it uses its motor to descend to 22,000 kilometers. Fourteen hours after launch the
packet would strike Deimos.”

“Fourteen hours? That’s a pretty leisurely attack profile.”

“It would give Rahmya more than enough time to establish an alibi or simply disappear.” Shiran sent the projected ballistic track to Mikal’s web. The packet—a simple cargo container with a small booster—could rise smoothly to an altitude of 30,000 kilometers, then kick into a parabolic transfer orbit and descend to 22,000 kilometers. In effect, the packet could swoop in from above and
behind Deimos as the satellite passed below.

“All right. All we have to do is contact Tetsu and tell him not to
land until we can solve this.”

“He won’t do it, Mikal. The deceleration sequence has already started. I talked to him. He’s not going to change his schedule. He’s
arriving on time, as planned.”

“Even with someone trying to kill him?”

“Precisely because someone is trying to kill him. If the threat is a terrorist attack, he won’t change his schedule.” Shiran was well aware of Ochiai’s views on this issue. This was not a matter of changing
a single spacecraft’s schedule. It was a political principle.

How should AADD deal with terrorists? Ochiai’s actions spoke for the collective. There would be no compromise with terrorism or its hidden backers. Terrorism would have no effect on AADD’s resolve to reach its goals. As the head of AADD’s steering committee,
Ochiai was the embodiment of that resolve.

“The greater the danger, the less room he has to back down,”
said Mikal. “He’s carrying the burden for us all.”

“That’s why he’s head of the steering committee.” Shiran examined the specifications, hoping to find some way to block a launch from outside the facility. It didn’t take her long to realize that the situation was worse than she’d imagined. “Mikal, if we don’t stop her, she could devastate Deimos. This driver fires packets from a top-loading magazine. If I were Rahmya, I’d fire as many packets as I could to cover my bet. She could wipe out most of Deimos Station.”

“How much longer till the window opens?” said Mikal.

“Less than ten minutes.”

The Guardians put on their bulky assault suits and began to check weapons. Most of these Guardians weren’t part of Shiran’s team, but rather belonged to a specialized assault group. Shiran had overall operational control, but these men and women were responsible for tactical decision-making on the ground. Their target had already
killed four people—five including the Terran victim.

Shiran also suited up. She hadn’t worn one of these units in a long time. They looked unwieldy but were manufactured from composite materials and were surprisingly light. The suits had advanced servo joint assist, enabling enhanced finger dexterity inside the suit’s gloves, and used a spaced armor system. This made them appear imposing, if not frightening—an intended psychological
effect reinforced by an all-black finish.

“I haven’t worn one of these units in a while,” said Shiran to the
squad leader.

“Bet it won’t be the last time, though.”

“I’m afraid you’re probably right.”

The squad members helped each other through their final suit checks. Their training focused on counterterrorism operations, and it was rare for them to actually be deployed. Most would-be terrorists were detained the moment they set foot on Deimos. Some members of this squad were undoubtedly on their first deployment. Shiran could sense it—even with their evil-looking suits on, some
of them were visibly ill at ease.

Seeing that Shiran was unarmed the squad leader offered her a
pistol. She waved it away. “Are you sure, Professor?” he asked.

“If you need me to carry a gun, I think the Guardians are finished.”

“Then let’s complete your thruster check.”

The armored suits were equipped with onboard thrusters—good for only three minutes of flight, but reliable, powerful, highly maneuverable, and fueled by a cocktail of sixty nitrogen compounds.

“Professor, we’re real close!” shouted Mikal.

“Maybe we’re even in time. I need a visual.” In seconds, Shiran’s retinal feed showed her the opening in the surface that marked the egress point for the packets. The image must have been enhanced—despite the distance it was unnaturally sharp and clear. Most of the mine structures had been buried by sandstorms, but it was clear that something man-made was out there. Shiran switched to infrared view.

“Hello…”

A distinct IR plume was visible around the tunnel entrance, proof that something inside was generating large amounts of heat. “Looks like someone’s in the kitchen.”

Minus 0 Hours 1 Minute

Other than the guidance sensors, everything’s finally going the way I planned. And the guidance sensors are fixed. I was worried about the mass driver equipment, but all in all it’s in better shape than I’d thought. The launch packets were stacked way back in the galleries behind the driver, good to go with hardly any attention
from me. All I had to do was top off the fuel tanks.

And now what’s left is just a little heavy lifting while the capacitors charge. The crane on the land cruiser works fine for loading the packets into the magazine. I supply a little elbow grease, wait patiently, and let leverage do most of the work. I don’t have to use my head. I’d really rather be loading with the big crane they have here, but with two-thirds of my generator capacity down that’s a luxury I can’t afford. The driver’s guidance system is drawing power from the cruiser while the generator powers the capacitors. I don’t hear much noise from the equipment, but I can feel the ground vibrating.
I must be putting out a big heat signature right about now.

I’ve got twenty packets to work with. With that many I could send a huge amount of mass into orbit, but like it or not I’m going to have to launch them empty. I’d love to load them up with mine slag, but there’s no time. Anyway, they’ll travel faster empty. Even
then, each one weighs about a ton.

Given the relative speed difference, I’m not going to hit Deimos with the packets. Not exactly. It’s more like Deimos is going to collide with them. The velocity differential will be pretty huge, based on the packets’ kinetic vector. It’s like the old battleships of the twentieth century—the packets are like shells from the battleships’ main battery. Twenty hits like that and Deimos Station will
probably be snuffed out along with Chairman Ochiai.

Martian gravity is only about a third of Earth’s, but after loading twenty packets into the magazine I’m completely exhausted. Still, there’s no time to rest. The only thing finished is the preparation.

I’m already three minutes into the launch window when the guidance console’s lights turn green straight across. The capacitors are juiced up and ready to go. I hurry to switch the guidance panel’s power supply over to the generator. I bring the orbital guidance sensors from idle mode to full readiness. Optical sensors, ballistic
homing radar—all systems nominal.

That’s when I see it. A blip on the homing radar. I feverishly
check the image data on my heads-up.