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CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Robin reported to Major Ulak on Bridge Deck of the Aztec. "Sir, Commander Reese and Elmer Luthis are requesting your presence in the staff dining mess."

"Luthis?"

"The senior member of the ship's scientific contingent. It's with regard to the names they're required to submit for the party to be received aboard Trojan."

"Very well. Captain Quoyn will assume watch duty on the Bridge."

"Sir," Quoyn acknowledged.

Ulak detailed two troopers to accompany himself and Robin. They left by a passage passing between communications and control rooms aft of the Bridge, descended two levels of stairs to the quarterdeck, and from there proceeded aft past the officers' day room to a midships bulkhead lock, where one of the guards securing the ship had been posted. On the far side of the bulkhead, a gallery containing air regeneration plant connected to a lateral corridor that was on the way to the section that the scientific staff used. As the party came through the lock into the gallery, Robin grabbed suddenly at one of the handrails by the door; at the same time, a strange thing happened. Somebody turned off the Yarbat generators underneath that section of flooring. The reaction to the crisp military footfalls of the other three sent them soaring upward and floundering in the suddenly zeroed gravity. A moment later the generators came on again, slamming them to the floor with the impact of a well-executed judo throw. Ulak lay dazed, all the breath knocked out of him. He recovered his senses to become aware of Robin relieving him of his firearm and communications equipment. Two other figures that had appeared from behind the machinery were likewise disarming the troopers.

"What? . . . Delucey? . . . Treachery?" Ulak wheezed.

"I regret the necessity for deception," Robin replied. "But sometimes loyalty goes back a long way." More people were coming quickly and silently from the direction of the far corridor.

"We'll take care of them," Merlin Friet said. And to the other arrivals, "Put these three in the utility locker."

The guard posted on the forward side of the lock heard the activity and came through to investigate just in time to be relieved of his weapon and added to the catch.

"Are they ready in the cargo hold?" Robin asked. The guards there should have been dealt with similarly at the same time, and locked in one of the switchgear compartments.

Friet checked, using a compad. "No hitches," he confirmed. "They're moving into place."

* * *

On the Bridge Deck, Quoyn took a call from Robin, sounding urgent. "Captain, emergency situation in the mid cargo hold! Major Ulak needs you here with nine men immediately!" Quoyn rattled off names and set out with his squad. They entered the hold at the double through the forward door to find figures milling in some kind of disturbance at the far end. The figures vanished through the after door, which moments later clanged shut. Only then did it register with Quoyn that neither Ulak, nor Delucey, nor any other TDF uniforms had been among them. He turned back in sudden alarm, his men coming to a confused halt around him. . . .

Just in time to see the steel shutter slide down across the forward doorway, too.

* * *

The sergeant commanding the guard detail in the aft cargo hold also got a call from Robin. "Lieutenant Delucey acting on behalf of Major Ulak. All men in the aft section proceed to the midships quarterdeck immediately to receive further orders."

"Sir."

The route forward led through an instrumentation bay, where the same Yarbat up-then-down-again treatment was repeated. It proved singularly effective with military personnel running at the double, and netted the whole squad.

* * *

The skeleton crew that Quoyn had left behind to watch over the Bridge Deck were the only ones left—though they had no notion of the fact—by the time Luthis came along the passage between the ancillary rooms to the rear, followed by a mixed group of senior staff and scientists. The two guards posted at the entry to the Bridge stepped forward as they approached. "Not past this point," one of them told him.

"But Major Ulak told us to assemble here," Luthis retorted indignantly.

"What is it?" The corporal who was now the most senior of those present came across.

"The party due to go over to the Trojan with Commander Reese. We were told to come here."

The corporal was uneasy. He hadn't been briefed on this. "I don't have any instructions on that. My understanding was that the list isn't approved yet. Assembly would be in the lock area, not here."

Vicki emerged from the throng and began heading toward where Reese was standing with some ship's officers. "Commander, isn't there—"

"You can't come into the Bridge area, ma'am," one of the guards repeated, moving across to block her.

Luthis, grumbling, edged into the space the guard had vacated. "I refuse to be run back and forth like a lab rat. Call Major Ulak."

Flustered, the corporal produced a compad. More figures were milling in from the passage. The guards who had been left looked to the corporal for direction, but for a few vital seconds his attention was focused on making the call. Suddenly, guns appeared in the hands of the arrivals. A couple of the guards managed to raise their weapons but they were outnumbered. Luthis trained a pistol on the stupefied corporal, still with his compad raised, gun in his unbuttoned holster, and held out his other hand. "Be sensible. We've got you cold," Luthis said. "Ulak and the others are all harmless and locked away, every one of them. Tell your men to stand down."

The corporal looked from the muzzle aimed at him from a couple of feet away, then around at their hopeless situation. He nodded. "Do as he says," he told them.

Reese emitted a sigh, finally releasing the tension he had been holding down. This last part had needed to be quick and to go without hitches. The party on the Bridge had been maintaining contact with the Trojan. "Disarm them and secure them in the officers' day room," he instructed the First Officer.

"Yes, sir!" The FO moved away, grinning.

Reese turned to Vicki. "He pulled it off. That's quite a son."

Vicki was suddenly overcome with relief, too. "I always thought it. But then, when was there a mother who didn't? I thought I'd lost him long ago. I don't mean when the Trojan vanished. Long before that—lost him as a person. I still don't have the whole story. But it must have been even harder on him than it was on me."

Robin appeared from the aft direction and joined them as the last of the Trojan's boarding party were being led away. "The engineers are manhandling cables through from the power conversion section now," he reported. "Wernstecki and a couple of his people are setting up their computations. He says they'll need at least half an hour."

Reese indicated the crew station where a channel was open to the Trojan. "It's all yours. Stall them as long as you can," he said.

* * *

In the Trojan's Command Module, Valcroix paced impatiently and looked up at the clock display above the mural screens on the Control Deck. One of the screens showed the Aztec, appearing stationary as it maintained its matching course. He came back to where Grasse was standing with General Nyrom and Captain Walsh. "What's keeping them?" he muttered. "We asked for a simple list of nominations. Wasn't it Reese who initiated this in the first place? Why is it taking so long?"

"Could you check again, General?" Grasse said.

Nyrom turned back to the crew station where an operator was monitoring the channel to the Aztec. "Get me Ulak," he instructed. "I want Major Ulak personally this time. Make that plain."

"I'll try, sir."

But it was Lieutenant Commander Delucey's face again that appeared on the screen.

Nyrom's patience had worn thin. "Why are my orders not being followed?" he demanded curtly. "I asked for Major Ulak. Put him on."

"I'm sorry, but the major is not present on the Bridge Deck at the moment, sir."

"Connect me to his personal code."

"We're not getting a response on that circuit, sir. Shall I send another party to locate him?" Evasions, excuses. What was going on there?

"Lieutenant Commander Delucey, I demand an explanation. Where is your commanding officer? Why have we not been able to speak with him?"

"I'm not familiar with the layout of this ship, sir."

"Put Commander Reese of the Aztec on!" Nyrom snapped. What had happened all of a sudden? Up until now Delucey had always been a capable, first-rate officer.

"He's conferring with the scientific delegation in another part of the ship, sir."

"Connect me to him, then!" Nyrom exploded.

What seemed an interminable wait ensued. Finally, Reese's face appeared on the screen. "General?"

"Commander Reese, I want an explanation. Where is Major Ulak?"

Reese looked puzzled. "The major? He's been waiting for your approval of the nominations list."

"We haven't received any list yet."

"That's strange. I—"

"What is going on over there? I warn you, Commander, if I don't get a satisfactory answer right now, I'll put a full crew aboard your ship and have you and everyone else there locked up for the remainder of the voyage. . . ."

Across the floor, an operator at one of the watch consoles called out suddenly, "Surveillance alert! Permission to report?"

Walsh looked over from the group that Nyrom had just left. "Go ahead."

"Sensors are showing thermal signatures on the Aztec's maneuvering thrusters. Radar indicates attitude altering. She's starting to move, sir."

"Commander Reese, what's happening?" Nyrom demanded. "Your ship is moving out of station. What in hell do you think you're doing? Do I have to remind you that we are an armed vessel?"

"Moving? That's absurd. Let me check."

But it was clearly true. On the large screen, the Aztec was starting to swing visibly, its tail coming around to bear in Trojan's direction.

"I don't know what they're up to," Grasse called back from the monitor station.

"Prepare for action. Issue a final warning," Valcroix said to Walsh. "If they ignore it, fire to disable, not destroy."

Walsh addressed the Chief Armaments Officer. "Deploy secondary lasers for low kill on stern section. Bring close-range disablers to launch readiness. Pods to Orange standby."

On the screen Aztec's stern was now full-face toward the Trojan. "Aztec firing main drive," the watch operator sang out.

"They must be insane," Walsh murmured, shaking his head. "There's no way they can hope to get out of range of what we're carrying."

"Secondary lasers locked on stern section, twenty percent power," the CAO reported. "Ready to fire. Awaiting orders."

"Aztec has cut main drive."

Walsh's face creased in bemusement. "It doesn't make any sense. If they're—"

"What—?"

"Argh!"

"Jesus Christ!"

It was as if a gigantic, invisible hammer had struck the ship. The entire floor bucked sideways suddenly, sending everyone who had been standing sprawling across the floor and in heaps on top of each other, and pitching console operators from their seats. Loose items flew in torrents off shelves and worktops and tumbled across the floor. Closet doors burst open; drawers slid out and fell off their runners. The air was filled with the juddering and groans of distorted structures protesting. Some figures managed to untangle themselves and pull themselves back to their feet . . . just in time to be bowled over by the next jolt. When they tried to rise again, their bodies felt unnaturally heavy, causing them to flounder more and lose coordination. A lighting fixture detached from its recess in the ceiling and shattered across the floor.

* * *

Trojan had the general form of a stepped axle carrying a wheel at the thicker end. The wheel consisted of six spokes with various functional modules at the ends, interconnected by a communications ring. "Down" within the module decks meant outward, the force defining it being generated by a slow rotation of the whole structure. When the ship was accelerating under thrust, the spokes trailed back, tilting the module decks at the correct angle to create a normal gravity simulation.

It had been Tanya's suggestion to position Aztec in a direction tangential to Trojan's wheel and direct Wernstecki's stern-pointing AG beam at the approaching side of it, thus speeding it up. But since gravity, like any force, is a two-way affair, this also had the effect of drawing Aztec in the opposite direction, toward Trojan. Aztec, however, had one factor working for it that Trojan didn't: Its main drive was aligned with Wernstecki's beam and when fired would oppose it. Hence, using the analogy Wernstecki had given when he first described his inspiration to the others, Aztec had the equivalent of something to dig its heels into when throwing its grapnel and jerking on the line.

One complication remained. The sensitive fusion optics in Aztec's stern wouldn't function while the AG beam, coming from the cargo holds forward of the propulsion section, was active. Hence, the procedure they had been forced to adopt was first to fire the main drive to accelerate Aztec away from Trojan; then cut the drive and energize the AG beam, which would act as a brake and retard it; then repeat the cycle. The momentum acquired by Aztec and then lost again was thus transferred to Trojan in a series of massive pulses, each one adding to its rotation like successive pushes to a children's carousel. Which of course increased gravity inside all the modules as well as putting all kinds of extra stresses on the spoke and support structures—with hopefully deleterious effect.

It was having other effects too, Wernstecki could see for himself on the screen without having to consult the analyzer readouts—although it had been expected. He was still at the monitor console in the control compartment by the cargo hold, frantically trying to synchronize the beam dynamics with the firing of the ship's drive, which Reese was directing from the Bridge, coordinating via one of Wernstecki's screens. Trojan wasn't just increasing rotational speed about its longitudinal axis; the axis itself was building up a tumbling motion of its own. The gravity pulses from Aztec were being applied to one side of the wheel only, producing an imbalance of force that was setting the whole structure into gyration like a wobbly spinning top. Carried to completion, this would result in a second, end-over-end mode of rotation superimposed on the first. What the effects would be on the occupants was anyone's guess. Wernstecki had hardly had time to go deeply into it—even if he'd had the inclination.

The additional degree of freedom in Trojan's motion made it necessary now to reorientate Aztec into the correct relative position before each fresh AG pulse. This meant predicting when the target portion of Trojan would move into alignment with Aztec's stern and at the same time be on a matching approach vector, which involved a tricky computation.

"Hold on X . . . coming in on Z now, twelve . . . ten-point- three . . . nine-nine . . ." Tanya recited, watching an adjacent panel.

"Dee-phi to five," Wernstecki directed over the link to Reese. "Reduce alpha more."

"Two-second burn on FS2. Retro on MP4, ten percent power," Reese translated to others on the Bridge. "Fire main at ten."

"Main drive firing, ten percent," a voice acknowledged.

Wernstecki took in several displays. "A half on dee-theta. Steady right there. . . . Steady . . . Wait on my count. Ready on beam."

"Ready on beam," the engineer in charge in the hold confirmed.

"Six . . . five . . . four—it's good—three . . . two . . . one . . .  Cut!"

"Cut main," Reese ordered on the Bridge.

"Main drive out."

The force that had been impelling everyone rearward in their seats vanished as forward acceleration ceased, but all anyone felt was a brief nudge as the underdeck Yarbat arrays compensated. For a brief moment Aztec coasted away from Trojan in freefall.

"Go, beam."

"Beam on."

This time the transient was beyond the range of the compensators. Wernstecki and the others held on for support as the invisible leash yanked Aztec back to a relative standstill.

"Off, beam."

"Beam off."

"What's your reading?" Wernstecki asked Merlin Friet, who was running other calculations at a crew station in the Communications Room.

"Axial multiplier alone should be at four-plus," he replied. It meant that anyone in the Trojan's ring modules would now be in possession of more than four times their normal body weight from just the speed-up, never mind what else the added tumbling did. Wernstecki told Reese that it should be enough to disrupt all the ship's functions for a considerable time to come.

"Then let's hose the Hub and the drive, and get out of here," Reese said. They had already agreed that for good measure they would aim a pulse each at the region of the Trojan's spoke bases, where most of the weaponry was concentrated, and at the tail-end fusion complex—simply in the hope of inducing further dislocation and chaos for those aboard to attend to.

Its mission accomplished, Aztec accelerated away flat-out on the fastest intercept course for Earth.

* * *

With no external friction to slow it down, an object set spinning in space will continue indefinitely until something acts to retard it. It took almost twelve hours for Walsh and his crew in the crazily turning and toppling Trojan to drag themselves together into a functional team and figure out a firing pattern for the maneuvering thrusters that would bring about recovery. Even then it was only partly effective, for some of the spokes had buckled, distorting the ring symmetry and introducing permanent instabilities that couldn't be corrected. The result was that life in the modules took on the feel of crossing a slowly pitching ocean, and a number of the occupants became acutely seasick. Several parts of the vessel that had suffered containment failure and were leaking into space had to be sealed off. Beyond that, the precision targeting instrumentation for the long-range weapons systems was malfunctioning and would have to be reset and recalibrated—which was neither here nor there as far as Aztec was concerned, since Aztec was long gone—and the main drive focusing system was out of alignment, which would reduce acceleration to thirty percent of normal until repairs could be effected.

But all was not lost. Valcroix delivered a rallying speech to the entire company, reminding them that the base on Earth was held, and with the Varuna and Surya in their possession, Trojan could be restored to full battle-strength before anything to match it could be organized and reach it from Saturn. Aztec would never be allowed to pull the same stunt again. So what would it do? If it continued to Earth, it would become their prize. If it returned to Saturn, the opposition on Earth would be reduced accordingly. True, the resources aboard it would have been a valuable asset to own, but they were not essential. Trojan itself carried a full complement of conventional industrial seed equipment that had been intended to establish a pilot capability in the Jovian system. With enough will and devotion to their cause, they could still regain Earth and make themselves impregnable. Oratory and inspiring followers was Valcroix's calling. With morale revived and a new determination sharpened by adversity, Trojan set course once again.

And then the news came in from Earth that there was no haven to be reached there after all. Zeigler's bid had ended. He and his followers were no more. It was the first anyone on the Trojan had heard of Gallian's murder and the deaths of the others there. Adreya Laelye had assumed control in the name of the government of Kronia. An hour later, a signal came in from President Urzin at Saturn. He exonerated Valcroix from direct responsibility for the crimes, since Zeigler had exceeded his orders, promising him and his followers a fair hearing if they recognized the inevitable and gave up. Meanwhile, Kronia was preparing an armed force.

What was there to do? With its armament and propulsion system impaired, its structure damaged, leaking, and likely to undergo further failures at any time, no friendly base available for making repairs, choices were nonexistent. Before his assembled entourage, a tight-lipped Valcroix sent out a message accepting Urzin's terms and announcing that the Trojan would make its way to Earth.

The term of the independent Terran Planetary Government was over.

 

 

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