Once the decision was taken, Consensus began the job of coordinating the gas giant’s resources and priorities. The extensive
clusters of industrial stations which surrounded each habitat were immediately turned over in their entirety to armaments
manufacture. Component production was integrated by Consensus, matching demand to capability within hours, then going on to
harmonize final fabrication procedures. Barely four hours after the operation started, the first new combat wasps were emerging
from their freshly allocated assembly bays.
After conquering New California itself, Capone began his campaign against the system’s asteroid settlements. Consensus knew
then it would only be a matter of time. Yosemite was the source of He3 for the entire system, the strategic high ground.
Perhaps if Capone had ordered an all-out assault on Yosemite as his first action he might have been successful. Instead, taking
over the asteroid settlements was a tactical error. It allowed the Consensus precious days to consolidate the gas giant’s
defences. Not even Emmet Mordden really grasped the awesome potential of an entire civilization converted to a war footing,
especially one with Edenism’s technological resources. How could he? It had never happened before.
Voidhawks hovering seven hundred thousand kilometres above New California’s poles observed the three new squadrons being assembled
among the fifty-three asteroids orbiting the planet. Their composition, numbers, and in some cases even the armament specifications
were duly noted and relayed to Yosemite. Unknown to the Organization, the voidhawks were not the summation of the Edenist
intelligence gathering operation, they simply coordinated the observation. Thousands of stealthed spy sensor globes the size
of tomatoes were falling past the asteroids like a constant black snow. All the information they gathered was passed back
to the voidhawks through affinity links with their bitek processors. The possessed couldn’t detect affinity, nor was it susceptible
to either conventional electronic warfare or the interference by the energistic ability, all of which allowed the spy globes
to reveal a minute by minute account of the buildup.
Had anyone in the Organization realized just how detailed the Edenist knowledge was, they would never have dispatched the
starships.
Thirty-nine hours after Capone had given the go-ahead to try to capture the Yosemite cloudscoops, two of the three squadrons
of ships docked in the asteroids departed. Consensus knew both the vectors of the ships and their arrival time.
Yosemite orbited seven hundred and eighty-one million kilometres from the G5-type star of the New California system. At a
hundred and twenty-seven thousand kilometres in diameter it was slightly smaller than Jupiter, although its storm bands lacked
the vigour normally associated with such mass; even their coloration was uninspiring, streamers of sienna and caramel meandering
among the pristine white up-bursts of ammonia crystals.
The thirty Edenist habitats orbited sedately three-quarters of a million kilometres above the equator, their tracks perturbed
only by gentle resonances with the eight large innermost moons. It was that radial band where the Consensus had concentrated
its new defensive structure. Each of the habitats was englobed by beefed-up Strategic Defence platforms; but given the demonstrated
ruthlessness of the attackers, Consensus was attempting to prevent any Organization ships getting near enough to launch a
combat wasp salvo.
With the vectors identified and timed, Consensus redeployed twelve thousand of the combat wasps out of the total of three
hundred and seventy thousand it had already seeded across the gas giant’s equatorial zone. Their fusion drives ignited for
a few minutes, putting them on a loose interception trajectory with the area of space the attackers were likely to emerge
in. A hundred of the patrolling voidhawks were moved closer.
The first seven attackers to emerge, as per standard tactics programs, were all front-line navy rapid-response frigates. Their
mission was to assess the level of opposition, and if necessary clear the incoming squadron’s designated emergence zone of
any hostile hardware. Even as their event horizons vanished, leaving them falling free, twenty-five voidhawks were accelerating
towards them at ten gees. Distortion fields locked on, ruining the equilibrium of space around their hulls, preventing any
of them from jumping clear. Combat wasps were already shooting over the intervening distance at twenty-five gees. The frigates
immediately launched defensive salvos, but with their sensors hampered by the energistic flux of their own crews, the response
was too slow in coming, and even when it did they were hopelessly outnumbered. Each of the frigates was the target of at least
a hundred and fifty combat wasps, streaking in at them from every direction. At most, they could fire forty defenders. To
have stood a good chance they would have needed close to five hundred apiece.
Within a hundred seconds all seven frigates were destroyed.
Ten minutes later, the rest of the Organization’s starships started to emerge from their ZTT jumps. Their predicament was
even worse. They were expecting the specialist frigates to have established a defensive perimeter. It took time for an ordinary
Adamist starship to deploy its sensor clusters and scan local space for possible danger; time which in this case was lengthened
by malfunctioning equipment. When the sensors finally did relay an image of the external arena, it seemed as though a small
galaxy was on the move. Yosemite was almost invisible behind a sparkling nebula of fusion drives; thousands of combat wasps
and tens of thousands of submunitions were generating a fraudulent dawn across half of the colossal planet’s nightside. And
the nebula was contracting, twin central whorls twisting lazily into two dense spires which were rising inexorably towards
the emergence zones.
One by one, the Organization starships crashed against the terrible, moon-sized mountains of light, detonating into photonic
avalanches which tumbled away into the yawning darkness.
• • •
Two hours later, the voidhawks on observation duty above New California reported that Capone’s third squadron was leaving
the orbital asteroids. When they were a quarter of a million kilometres above the planet, the starships activated their energy
patterning nodes and vanished. Consensus was puzzled by the vector; they weren’t aligned on any known inhabited world.
• • •
Not even the ending of the physical threat had brought any relief to the turmoil in Louise’s head. They had flown all the
way into orbit to dock with the
Far Realm
without any problem, although Furay had grumbled constantly about bits of machinery going wrong on the ascent.
The starship itself wasn’t quite as impressive as she’d been expecting. The interior was like servants’ quarters, except made
out of metal and plastic. There were four spheres grouped together in a pyramid shape, which the crew called life-support
capsules, and that was the total available living space; apparently the rest of the ship inside the hull was solid machinery.
Everything was so dreadfully small—tables, chairs, bunks; and what wasn’t being used had to be folded away. And to complete
her misery, free fall was an utter nightmare.
It was ironic. As Genevieve had perked up during the spaceplane flight, so Louise had felt gradually worse. As soon as the
rocket engines finally cut out, leaving them floating free, Genevieve had yelled delightedly, releasing her webbing and hurtling
around the cabin, giggling as she bounced and somersaulted. Even Fletcher, after his initial alarm at the sensation, had relaxed,
smiling cautiously as he attempted a few simple gymnast manoeuvres with Genevieve cheering him on.
But not her. Oh, no. She’d been wretchedly sick three times during the rendezvous, what with the spaceplane juddering around
the whole time. It had taken her several tries to learn how to use the sanitation tube provided for such instances, much to
the disgusted dismay of the others in the cabin.
She had then continued to be sick, or at least have the stomach spasms, after they floated through the airlock tube into the
starship’s tiny lounge. Endron, the ship’s systems specialist who doubled as medical officer, had towed her into the sick
bay cubicle. Twenty minutes later when the horrid warm itch inside her stomach faded, and some kind of cool fluid was sprayed
into her mouth to rinse away the taste of vomit, she began to take stock for the first time. Her ears felt funny, and when
she touched one she could feel something hard cupped around the back of it.
“That’s a medical nanonic,” Endron told her. “I’ve put one package behind each ear. Don’t try and take them off, they’ve knitted
with your inner ears. It ought to solve your balance problem.”
“Thank you,” she said meekly. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
“You’re not. If only your sister was as quiet as you.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Is she being a nuisance?”
He laughed. “Not really. We’re just not used to girls her age on board, that’s all.”
Louise stopped fingering the medical package. When she brought her hand away she saw a strange green bracelet on her wrist;
it was made from a substance like lustreless polythene, an inch wide and about half an inch thick. There was no join, it was
solid. On closer inspection she saw it had fused to her skin, yet it wasn’t painful.
“Another package,” Endron said dryly. “Again, don’t touch it, please.”
“Is it for my balance as well?”
“No. That one is for your other condition. It will keep your blood chemistry stable, and if it detects any metabolic problem
starting from free-fall exposure it’ll datavise a warning to me.”
“Other condition?” she asked timidly.
“You did know you were pregnant, didn’t you?”
She closed her eyes and nodded, too ashamed to look at him. A complete stranger knowing. How awful.
“You should have told Furay,” he remonstrated gently. “Free fall exerts some strong physiological changes on a body, especially
if you’re unaccustomed to it. And in your state, you really should have been prepared properly before the spaceplane took
off.”
A warm tear squeezed out from under her eyelids. “It’s all right, isn’t it? The baby. Oh, please, I didn’t know.”
“Shush.” Endron’s hand stroked her forehead soothingly. “The baby is just fine. You’re a very healthy young girl. I’m sorry
if I frightened you; like I said, we’re not used to passengers. I suppose it must be equally strange for you, too.”
“It’s all right, really?”
“Yes. And the nanonic will keep it that way.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
“Just doing my job. I’ll have to consult some files about your diet, though, and check what food stocks we’ve got on board.
I’ll get back to you on that one.”
Louise opened her eyes, only to find the cabin blurred by liquid stretching across her irises. A lot of blinking cleared it.
“Let’s get you mobile again,” Endron said, and released the seal on the straps holding her down on the couch. “Though you’re
not to whizz about like your sister, mind.”
His tone was identical to Mrs Charlsworth’s. “I won’t.” The rest of the sentence died on her lips as she caught sight of him.
Her first thought was that he was suffering some kind of terrible affliction.
Endron’s head was ordinary enough. He was a man in his late fifties, she guessed, with a short crop of fading black, curly
hair and cheeks which appeared almost bloated, eradicating wrinkles. However, his body… He had very broad shoulders atop an
inflated rib cage, she could actually see the lines of individual ribs under his glossy green ship-suit. She’d seen holograms
of terrestrial sparrows at school, and the anatomical arrangement put her in mind of that puffed-out bird. His chest was huge,
and very frail-looking.
“Not seen a Martian before, huh?” he asked kindly.
Furious with herself for staring, Louise turned her head away. “I’m not sure. Do all Martians look like you?”
“Yep. So you’d better get used to it. This is an SII line ship after all, the rest of the crew are the same as me. Except
Furay of course; that’s why he’s on board. We couldn’t fly the spaceplane down to terracompatible planets. Can’t take the
gravity.”
“How… ” She wasn’t sure if this was really a fit subject to discuss so casually. It was almost as though they were talking
about a terminal illness. “Why are you like that?”
“Geneering. It’s very deliberate, dates back a while. Even with terraforming we don’t have a standard atmosphere on Mars.
Our ancestors decided to meet the problem halfway. As we’re a Communist society, naturally everyone got the modification to
expand our lung capacity; and that was on top of the earlier adaptations we made to ourselves to survive in the Moon’s gravity
field.”
“The Moon?” Louise asked, trying to sort things out in her mind. “You lived on the Moon first?”
“It was the Lunar nation which terraformed Mars. Didn’t they teach you that at school?”
“Uh, no. At least, we haven’t got to it yet.” She decided not to question him on the communism bit. Given Daddy’s opinion
on that topic, it would make life a little too complicated right now.
He was smiling gently at her. “I think that’s enough history. It’s nearing midnight, Norwich time. Perhaps you’d better get
some sleep, yes?”
She gave him an eager nod.
Endron coached her in the elementary movements necessary to get about in free fall. Speed was not a requirement, he insisted,
arriving safely and accurately at your destination was. And you must be careful of inertia, it creates huge bruises.
With his encouragement she made her way into the life support capsule they’d been allocated: a lounge five yards to a side,
made from grubby pearl-grey composite walls which were inlaid with several instrument panels with tiny orange and green lights
winking below their dark glass surfaces. Plastic doors which were like a kind of solidified liquid flowed apart to reveal
three “cabins” for them to sleep in (the wardrobes she had in her Cricklade bedroom were larger). There was a bathroom in
the upper deck at which Louise took one look and promptly recoiled, vowing not to go to the toilet again until they were safely
back on a planet.