“All of this was gathered from the surface? No mining was required?”
“None at all, sir.”
Captain Hill stared at the crate.
If lorga is so readily available that a few rovers working for 24 hours can collect this much, why did the Dremikians think they needed us at all? They could have sent rovers down and scooped it up themselves.
“You’re sure this isn’t debris from the moon? I don’t want to set off a chain reaction event that destroys the moon, the planet, and us with it.”
Fortunas shook his head vigorously in the negative. “I’ve collected samples from the moon’s surface, the debris fields, and even from inside the fissure. The only traces I found were just that—trace remnants of an explosion.”
“I’m still suspicious.”
“I know, Captain, but I don’t have any better answers for you than I did two days ago. Either a recent geologic event expelled all this mineral and left it scattered down that hillside, or we stumbled on an abandoned mine tailing.”
“Which raises the uncomfortable question of who was doing the mining. The Dremikians haven’t been down there in centuries. Anything they left exposed on a hillside would have been far more weathered.”
“And scattered.” Fortunas tugged at the hair at his nape. “I know.”
“Deus ex machina?”
The old scientist stared off into the blackness outside the lander bay. “I gave up believing in God quite some time ago, Captain.” He winced at his own comment. “What do you intend to do with this seemingly divine gift?”
There was no mistaking the stubborn cast of the captain’s features. “I intend to carry out my orders. The Dremikians said I can’t
settle
on the planet. They never said I couldn’t
save
the planet.”
“You’re taking a risk.”
Staring straight at the old scientist, the captain replied, “We were brought here to restore the orbit of the moon. We are fulfilling our treaty obligations. Until I hear differently from the ISA Admiralty, that is my mission.” He continued to stare at Fortunas, who stared right back. After a tense moment, the scientist nodded.
“Swede, get started on bomb making. We have a moon to move.”
***
“He’s going to do it.”
“Without approval? Or did you receive a message from the Admiralty without telling me?”
“I’ve told you everything. He’s doing this on his own. Claims it is within the boundaries of his original mandate.”
“I cannot imagine him truly believing that, much less acting on the belief. That code of conduct is shoved so far up his…”
“I know your feelings on my brother.” Ryan ran his hand over his wife’s bulging abdomen. “Soon.”
“He still doesn’t know.”
“He knows what he needs to know in order to do what we need done. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him—or us.”
***
Captain Hill shifted in his chair. The main displays showed the flashing signals from each of the fifty small satellites currently hovering between Dremiks and Najif. The oddly shaped, hollow, metal objects danced a bizarre ballet, waiting for the signal from the
Hudson
that would detonate their contents. Done in proper synchronization, the explosions would send superheated gas and mineral remnants surging in a wave toward Najif. Other explosions would carve out chunks of the moon on opposite poles in order to temporarily disrupt its wobbling orbit, so that the explosive wave would actually move the moon. Still other satellites waited to vaporize any large chunks of debris that threatened the planet, the
Hudson
, or the Dremikians orbiting nearby. All of it waited for the captain’s command.
“Dwax?”
“Honored Captain, I have informed the High Council of your intentions and that they must remain beyond the cordon.”
“They understand that I will not accept responsibility for any damages should any of their ships come too close to the blast radius?”
“Yes, Honored Captain.” He bowed his head, shame evident in his manner and speech.
Hill keyed the intercom to engineering. “Proceed, Guttmann.”
In the engineering bay, Lieutenant Guttmann and seven colonial engineers stood at different computers, monitoring the explosive ring they’d constructed. On the go order from the captain, Swede keyed in a command that was relayed to the explosives on the moon. A countdown began showing when the next signal would be relayed. On Najif, new craters suddenly formed. The moon began to wobble even more. There was only a second’s time before the next detonations occurred. In the near-vacuum of space, there weren’t enough ambient particles to create resistance necessary for a shock wave. The wave that formed was constructed of energy and miniscule particles traveling at nearly the speed of light. Due to the careful placement and construction of the satellite bombs, the blast energy focused on Najif, slamming into the moon and forcing it away from Dremiks.
The telescopes and other visual light spectrum devices on the
Hudson
were turned off in order to protect the delicate instruments from the explosive radiation. The radar was likewise shut down. Humans and Dremikians waited, in the safe zone far from the moon and planet, to see if their plan worked. On the bridge of the
Hudson
, Captain Hill stared at his instrument panel.
They traveled so far just to find us and then spent years teaching us how to travel back with them. All to save a dying planet. When we get here the situation is exponentially more dire than we were led to believe, and yet, they suddenly do not want our help. Even now, on the brink of success, they remain opposed to our presence. What has changed? Is this schism due to something we’ve done, or a change in the Dremikians?
“Captain, I am proceeding with targeted detonations in sectors A6 and F15 in order to remove larger debris.”
“Very well, Lieutenant.” Hill glanced over his shoulder at Dwax and was surprised to find the alien watching him. The captain quirked an eyebrow. Dwax bobbed his head, downward, once.
Is the guilt he feels motivated by O’Connell’s accident and the High Council wishing to alter our treaty, or is it due to his act of sabotage during our flight? If he
is
the saboteur. So far the only thing I can concretely prove is that he sent secret messages to his home planet while we were in transit. Surely those messages had some effect on the current situation
—
but how much, and why? If Dwax isn’t our saboteur, who
is?
“Ensign Robertson, start turning on the sensors. I want feedback.” Hill called down to engineering. “Lieutenant, no more detonations for now. I want to start gathering data. If we find there are other debris fields that need to be cleaned up, we can take care of them later.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Telescopes and radar on-line, sir. The computers are working the data now. I will have updated Najif trajectories and orbital paths in five minutes.”
It only took four minutes. Captain Hill read the data streaming across the main screen and allowed himself a small smile. He paged engineering, again.
“Lieutenant you and your team will receive commendations for this. Najif has moved to three hundred and fifty thousand kilometers from the planet. The polar axis tilt has reduced to five degrees. Congratulations. You have saved Dremiks.”
He listened to the congratulations being passed around the bridge and engineering, but the captain’s mind remained stuck on one question.
Now what?
Chapter 22
It took an entire week of waiting, but the word from Rhyse station finally arrived.
“The Honored Arbiters have spoken, Honored Captain. The Dremikian High Council has been instructed that they must adhere to the previous treaty. Humans have fulfilled their part of the agreement. We must allow you to settle on Dremiks.”
“Why this request for more information on the area where we found the lorga?”
Dwax shuddered. Given his soft skeletal structure, a shudder was an especially violent action. “They are
concerned
, Honored Captain. There should not be a mine there. You will grant their request?”
“We have a colony to establish on a planet with two percent relative humidity and an extremely harsh climate. A planet which is, by the way, still being bombarded by regular meteor showers and severe magnetic storms. Investigating a mysterious mine is not at the top of my priority list. Also,” his eyes narrowed, “I’m not in a particularly beneficent mood.”
***
“Our first order of business needs to be stabilizing the atmosphere dome so that we can get some basic life support systems active. I’ve drawn up what specifications I can, from our sensor readings. From the overhead pictures we have from Price’s latest flight, we can see that the dome is cracked here and here.” Swede paused in his litany to point to the pictures displayed behind him. The assembled engineers of the
Hudson’s
crew and colonists looked on attentively. “The oxygen supply on the surface is sufficient for human habitation, and there have been no adverse life-forms detected. However, the continued gravitational storms will wreak havoc on our sensors and our ability to work quickly. The wind speeds exceed two hundred forty kilometers per hour at some points during the storms. Driving sand will injure anyone caught outside.”
“How are we going to get there? Your own best pilot crashed and the other lander barely made it back.” The colonist, a civil engineer, asked his question in an aggressively confrontational tone.
“
Barely made it back
is a gross exaggeration. Price has now made four successful sorties to the planet, landing for two of those. We will take small crews down as possible. We still have two functioning landers. We, also, now know the safest routes to take when approaching the colony site. I do not mean to deceive you; the ride will be unpleasant, and there will be hard landings. However, you all knew this could be a dangerous assignment when you signed up.” Guttmann’s look challenged anyone to make any further comments regarding the crash of Lander 1.
“Now then,” he continued. “We’ll need cordonlance and aluminum alloys to repair these panels here and here. This basic rib structure has been made with a material very similar to our steel. We have supplies that can accurately duplicate the flexibility and shape of the missing ribs. Cordonlance, as you all know, can be molded on site, and very quickly at that. The aluminum panels we will craft on the
Hudson
before departure. The captain has approved the following timetable.” Swede pointed to the new image on the view screen. “Once we have the dome repaired, the civil engineering crews, divided thusly, will land and start establishing water, sanitation, and air flow systems. From what Commander O’Connell tells us, your biggest problem will be keeping sand and other particles out of the air filtration systems.”
A female colonist with dark black hair laughed. “If that is our biggest problem, then this will be the easiest terra-formation in human history. Sand we can deal with, Lieutenant.”
“Right, sorry ma’am. Let’s hope I am correct and that really is our toughest challenge. Now, as for power and medical systems...” Swede continued with his briefing, mindful of the tension in the room. The colonists had been informed of the harsh future facing them, and more than a few were angry and feeling betrayed. They hadn’t expected an easy job on Dremiks, but they had expected far better chances of success.
***
Tony winked at his video feed of Holly and took one last glance in the mirror before leaving his quarters. He was feeling particularly happy today. The captain continued to praise him for his job well done, retrieving O’Connell and Mangoda from the surface. And, while he would never say anything to her, Tony was experiencing a bit of schadenfreud at the commander’s poor landing. He had succeeded where the best pilot in the fleet had failed. It was enough to make him whistle as he headed to the officers’ mess.
Swede was already in the room, staring at the view screen on the wall and mumbling softly to himself.
“Still going over your timetable, Swede?” Tony slapped his roommate on the back and poured himself some tea.
The tall blonde engineer snorted at the co-pilot. “You’re still pretty damn pleased with yourself, eh?” Swede fixed Tony with a piercing look and waited for his answer. He had learned that uncomfortable silences were just as effective as yelling in getting people to admit their secrets. Tony was no different.
“Look, damn it, I’m not happy she crashed, but I got us down there and back with nothing but a few scratched panels. That has to count for something.” He rolled his shoulders and shook his head. “I refuse to feel guilty for doing my job well and being proud of it.”
“That is the problem with pilots. You are all emotion and instinct with no rational thought at all.”
Tony’s fists clenched. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. I’m just as intelligent and rational as you. I just happen to have pride in my work—in a skill no one else has.”
“No one insulted your intelligence.” Tony moved until he was right in front of Guttmann, his tea forgotten. Swede looked down at him and shook his head in a condescending manner. “You can be the smartest man in the world and still be an emotional twit, which you’re being right now.”
“You ass!”
Before Tony could lose his temper any further, Captain Hill’s voice barked from the doorway. “Gentlemen, is there a problem?”
The two men snapped to attention, guilt suffusing their features. They both stood ramrod straight, not responding to their captain.
“Well?” The captain’s voice had dropped to a dangerously soft level. “Is this something I need to settle, or can you two work things out like officers of the ISA instead of warring school boys?”
“No problem at all, sir.”
“My apologies for our raised voices, sir.”
Hill didn’t believe either of them, but he let it go. “Sit down both of you. I intend to enjoy a quiet lunch before we go over schedules again.” He watched as they both sat, neither looking at the other. With a heavy sigh, he moved to the sideboard and made himself a turkey sandwich. “The ladies will not be joining us, so go ahead and eat gentlemen.”