Polity 2 - Hilldiggers (55 page)

“Harald is responding to the Worm's will in the only way he knows,” I said, studying him carefully. “But I see I am not telling you anything you don't already know.”

His reaction to that was odd. He noticeably jerked as if coming out of a reverie, and for a brief moment looked actually scared.

I prodded him in the back with my gun. “Your office.”

The office itself was spartan and lacking in much to personalise it. A picture on one wall displayed a desert scene, while some mostly empty shelves held partially dismantled bits of hardware. A full-length oval mirror in an ornate frame stood opposite a desk loaded with consoles and a framework for opening the soft scroll screens they used here. There was a couch with a low table nearby. Nothing on the table but a film of dust.

“Now you must initiate that emergency protocol,” I said. “I'll be looking over your shoulder and, believe me, I know more about your computer systems than you might suppose.”

He looked at me as if offended by such an inference, then his gaze strayed over my shoulder, towards the mirror behind me. Vanity? I just could not see the possibility of that vice within him, so even the presence of that mirror struck an incongruous note. Just to remind him, I pulled out the gun, and gestured with it to the desk.

“Unfortunately I misled you,” he said, and the weirdly crazy expression that momentarily passed over his face made me step back a pace.

“If you could elaborate,” I prompted.

Again that glance towards the mirror, then he focused on me and leant forward a little. “I cannot initiate any of the emergency protocols. No director should possess the power to destroy all or part of the Worm, or even eject it from this station, without good reason. So the protocols only become viable once automatic systems have picked up a definite breach in one of the canisters.”

“Then why let me come here at all?”

“Because, as you so rightly pointed out, you are holding a gun.” He peered at the weapon. “Finely made, too. It looks like the kind manufactured for ship or station assault. Is the ammunition armour-piercing? Such weapons often use such bullets for the penetration of armoured spacesuits.”

What was he wittering on about?

“Yes, the bullets are armour-piercing.”

He continued, “I believe the reasoning behind such weapons is that, when you're assaulting a ship or station, the possibility of your bullets causing an atmosphere breach is rather irrelevant, since you'll be wearing a spacesuit.”

“Do you think that would stop me from firing in here?” I asked. “Please don't make that mistake.”

Almost as if to challenge me, he took a pace forward. I wasn't intending to kill him, but I doubted I could subdue him in any other way. Rewind a few months and I wouldn't even have needed the gun, but now I felt drained in more senses than one, since every time I took a step now, I could feel the blood squelching in my boots. If he went for me, I would probably end up with broken bones, and that might hasten my end.

His gaze wavered, sliding past my shoulder again to the mirror. What was it about that damned mirror? I quickly stepped to one side and took a proper look at it. Its frame, I noticed, had an even patina all round except in one particular place, for the snake's head incorporated in the design was highly polished as if by the frequent touch of a hand. I now recognised the design of the frame was an Ouroboros—a snake swallowing its own tail forever—and I thought that entirely appropriate. I quickly brought my gaze back to him.

“We use optical diamond so the Worm can be viewed,” he told me. “It's a foolish conceit, since there is no need for us to actually see it, and diamond, though incredibly hard is also incredibly brittle.” He paused for a moment, his gaze cast down, introspective. “When we were lovers I took Elsever down there to see my charge. I was foolishly proud as well as in love. I think it was just awaiting the opportunity...or perhaps it had even manufactured that opportunity.” He looked up again. “That was when it touched her, of course.” Then he drew his lips back from his teeth, almost as if he were in pain—and threw himself at me.

I had him in my sights all the while. He seemed to make no attempt to avoid getting shot, but I couldn't do it. I flicked my finger away from the trigger as with both hands he grabbed me by the loose material across my chest, hoisted me off the floor then propelled me backwards and slammed me against the mirror. I felt ribs crack and something again began bubbling in my lungs. The gun barrel was pressed right up against his guts, and I knew that in a second I could blow them and part of his spine out of his back.

“It touched her! It touched her!” he shrieked in my face. Then his expression changed, looking lost. “I have to stop you.”

He let me slide down until my feet rested on the floor, then drew his fist back to deliver a blow I knew would cave in my face. With my former Old Captain strength I could have pulled his head off; as weak as I was now, only a few options remained to me. Despite the Sudorian differences, he was still human, so possessed a human physiology. I brought my knee up hard.

Gneiss made a sound like loose cloth getting sucked through a small hole into vacuum. He released me, staggered back, and cupped his testicles protectively. I brought the gun butt down on the back of his head, and he collapsed. I just stood there gasping for breath. Then I started coughing up bloody phlegm. I really just wanted to slide down to the floor, and wait for everything to go away. No, not yet. I understood his dilemma, understood what he had been telling me. I reached down and took hold of his wrist in both hands and with a struggle that almost had me crying in frustration, dragged him closer to the mirror, and propped him up next to it. Then I pulled his right hand up high enough to place it against that polished snake's head in the mirror frame.

The mirror instantly revolved into the wall, revealing a small lift beyond. I stepped inside and it immediately revolved closed again. Then it took me down.

Those we left behind have rediscovered us. Our ancestors left the Solar System, in the midst of savage corporate wars, in the hope of starting something new, something worthy. Looking back upon our history here, can we honestly say we have since transcended our bloody past on Earth and within the Solar System? Humans can now change themselves physically in ways that utterly outpace the slow meander of evolution, and it seems, from what we have heard about this Polity, that human science has produced powerful artificial intelligences that put the organic fat in our skulls to shame. Yet what about morality? Does that, too, evolve or does it remain a construct relevant only to our hunter-gatherer past? Does it now have any relevance in the modern human universe at all? I wonder if our distant kin from the Polity know. I wonder if they are 'better' than us.

—Uskaron

Harald

Firing from the Defence Platforms and from the Corisanthe stations was becoming intermittent as the hilldiggers held their positions, themselves using defensive fire only. Harald guessed that the members of the Oversight Committee were beginning to realise that they now might not win this, but any satisfaction he might otherwise have felt was muted by the ache in his head. He began checking logistics and tactical assessments. If they continued to engage in a straight shooting war with conventional weapons, Fleet would likely run out of supplies and need to withdraw. Harald, of course, had no intention of withdrawing.

Turning his attention to another view provided by a couple of Fleet spy cameras, Harald observed the Combine passenger liner was now well out from Corisanthe II and apparently moving to intercept Tlaster Cobe's Stormfollower, which at present appeared not to be moving despite the glow from its steering thrusters, but would eventually enter atmosphere. The liner, though a civilian vessel, was accelerating much faster than could Fleet vessels of comparable size. Harald decided there and then that once he had seized control of all of Combine's resources, he would have Fleet engineers take a close look at those engines. But what to do now, for the liner would reach Stormfollower within the next half-hour. He considered having Harvester and Musket launch a missile strike against the liner, then suddenly felt bewildered.

Why do that? Why destroy that liner; why send Tlaster Cobe and his entire crew to their deaths; why waste a hilldigger by smashing it into Sudoria? Nausea assailed him. He bit down on it and in that moment experienced a sudden reversal. He decided his previous decision about Cobe was a mistake he needed to correct, for the lives of Stormfollower's crew and maybe for his own sanity. And anyway he could afford to be magnanimous.

Now decided on what to do, Harald accessed Stormfollower's systems, but soon realised that stopping its descent would be no easy task. The necessary code seemed almost slippery and sometimes there were bits of it he just did not understand now. Eventually, however, he found what he wanted and sent his instructions. Views from a distance showed him a hundred or more steering thrusters on Stormfollower shutting down, then another hundred or more coming on. Using orbital mechanics programs, Harald made his calculations. Not enough. Despite the steering thrusters now fighting against it, Stormfollower was still on course to slam into Sudoria. No technology aboard the hilldigger itself could prevent that.

“Get me Director Gneiss,” Harald ordered. “I think it's time for us to talk.”

While he waited for the connection, he again assessed Stormfollower's chances. Combine's solution would be to dock with the huge vessel, offload its crew, and then run to the nearest available station. That strategy, rather than trying to pull the hilldigger out of its current descent, would get the passenger liner out of danger the quickest. But perhaps there was another option. Harald began to make further calculations factoring in the evident power of that liner's engines.

“Is Gneiss refusing com?” Harald enquired after a couple of minutes' silence.

“Admiral,” replied the tacom, “it seems that Director Gneiss is currently unavailable, but there are other members of the Combine Oversight Committee who are prepared to talk with you.”

“Who do you have?”

“Rishinda Gleer.”

Harald grimaced, remembering the message she had sent to Fleet, which had resulted in him receiving a bullet in his head.

“I'll speak to her,” he conceded.

After a moment, looking grave and tired she appeared on the screen before him. He smiled at her without much sincerity. “I will not bother to waste time with any of the civilities, since we have moved well beyond that now.”

“Civilities are for the civilised,” Gleer noted acidly.

“Whatever,” said Harald. “You must order your forces to cease fire at once.”

“And on what basis do you make this demand?”

“I suspect you already know, but I'll spell it out for you anyway. Fleet hilldiggers are currently occupying positions where you will be unable to use your gravity disruptors against them without causing serious damage, if not the complete destruction, to one or all of the Corisanthe stations. However, those same hilldiggers are now with impunity able to fire gravity disruptors at your stations.”

“That, Harald, is not entirely true. We can still quite easily destroy Wildfire, Desert Wind and your own ship without substantial risk to Corisanthe stations II and III.”

“Perhaps so,” Harald admitted, “but none of your stations can fire on Harvester and Musket without risking such destruction, and should you open fire on us, they will proceed to destroy your two most highly populated stations.”

“I do not believe that either Captain would be so bloody-minded, especially after losing their Admiral and knowing they would be going against the direct orders of Parliament.” But even as she spoke the words, Harald noticed that firing upon the Fleet vessels had reduced abruptly.

“I have to wonder if you are prepared to bet the lives of hundreds of thousands of Combine citizens on what you believe,” said Harald. “Though you should be aware that the Captains of those ships will shortly be losing the ability to refuse such an action.”

“You are a cold bastard,” said Gleer, her face turning as grey as her hair. Harald felt that he had correctly guessed her current location as being on one of the two threatened stations.

“Sentiment tends to cost more lives than it saves.” Harald gave her another false smile. “But I see that Combine stations are already ceasing to fire upon us.” He nodded. “That being the case, I will restrain my vessels from firing on the passenger liner you have sent to intercept Stormfollower”

“So generous of you,” Gleer sneered bitterly.

Sudden anger surged in Harald. “Though I am always prepared to change my mind,” he spat. “I'm speaking to you like this because I want to prevent unnecessary killing. Should I decide to close down this link right now, then, at my convenience, one of your stations will cease to exist. Please let me know if you are unclear about any of this?”

Rishinda Gleer glared back at him. “I am not in the least unclear. We have reached a predictable impasse. If either side makes use of gravity disruptor weapons, the results will light Sudoria's sky with falling debris for some time to come. Now, you were saying about Stormfollower ...”

Harald stared at her irritably as he fought against the impulse to simply shut down communication. Finally, he managed to get himself under control.

“Yes, my calculations indicate it would be possible for your liner to hard-dock with Stormfollower and divert it back out into space. That should take approximately five hours. I will meanwhile not fire upon either ship, since I have nothing to gain from doing so.”

“So, simply on a whim you set that ship on a course to destruction, and now equally on a whim you wish to save it. How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I must leave that to you.”

“Very well, I will now relay instructions to the Captain of the Freesky. So what else, Admiral Harald?”

Harald grimaced on learning the name of the civilian liner.

“What else, indeed,” he replied. “Why clearly Orbital Combine must now publicly declare its surrender to Fleet.”