and satellites. In the best of times, microcollisions had created so much junk that garbage collection was the largest industry in near-Namqem space.
That orderly commerce had ended many Msecs earlier. The Qeng Ho armada had not precipitated this chaos, but they were rushing through it with bomb flares and ramfields that stretched out and sideways for hundreds of kilometers. Pham’s ramfields swept across millions of tonnes of junk and freighters and governance military vehicles…. Their coming had been announced; perhaps there were no innocent casualties. What was left behind was as tumbled and charred as any battlefield.
Tarelsk lay directly ahead. The million lights of its great days had been put out, either by governance fiat or by Pham’s pulse bombs. But the satellite was not dead. Casualties were as light as humanly possible. And in less than fifty seconds Pham’s ships would cut their torches. What followed would be the riskiest time of the adventure for them personally. Without the torches, they could not run their ramfields… and without the ramfields even accidental pieces of high-speed junk could cause damage.
“Forty seconds to flameout.” Their torches were already tuning down, so as not to destroy Tarelsk’s surface.
Pham scanned the reports from the other fleets: the landers down on Namqem world, the two thousand starships moving to save the starving at Maresk. Maresk floated like a deep-sea leviathan in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Many of the two thousand had been able to dock. The rest hung off-surface. The last of the freighters from the outer system was visible beyond Maresk’s limb. That huge, slow blimp had been launched Msecs earlier, when the outermost farms were still under effective automation. The freighter was as big as a starship, but with none of a ramscoop’s structural overhead. There were ten million tonnes of grain aboard it, enough to sustain Maresk a little while longer.
“Twenty seconds to flameout.”
Pham watched the view of Maresk for a couple of seconds more. Clouds of lesser craft swarmed around the Qeng Ho visitors there, but they were not fighting. The people there had not lost out to crazies as at Tarelsk.
Silver glyphs tripped across the top of Pham’s view, chilling fragments of ice. The message was from Sura’s agents on Maresk:Sabotage detected in harbored vehicles. Flee! Flee! Flee! And the view of Maresk vanished from Pham’s huds. For a moment he was looking out across the
And then the fringe of Namqem’s atmosphere flared with the light of a sun, a new sun that had been born somewhere beyond it. Two seconds later, there was another flash, and then another.
A moment before, theFar Regard ’s bridge crew had been totally intent on the flameout countdown and preparing for the dangers that would follow the loss of their ramfield protection. Now there was a surge of activity as they turned startled attention upon the lights that flashed across the limb of Namqem world. “Multigigatonne detonations around Maresk.” The analyst was trying to keep his voice level. “Our fleets near the surface—Lord— they’re gone!” Gone along with the billion-plus population of the megalopolis.
Sammy Park sat frozen, staring. Pham realized he might have to take over the bridge. But then Sammy leaned forward against his harness, and his voice was loud and sharp. “Tran, Lang, back to your stations. Look to our fleet!”
Another voice: “Flameout… now.”
Pham felt the familiar, falling lightness asFar Regard ’s main torch quenched to zero. His huds showed that all thirty of his fleet had flamed out within a hundred milliseconds of the planned instant. Less then four kilometers ahead floated Tarelsk, so near that it did not seem a moon or a planet so much as a landscape that stretched out and out around them. Before the coming of Humankind, Tarelsk had been just another dead and cratered moon, scarcely larger than the original Luna. But like Luna, the economics of transport had brought it greatness. By the light of Namqem world, Tarelsk was a landscape of pastels and soaring artificial mountains. And unlike old Luna, this world had never known human-made catastrophe… until now.
“Closing velocity fifty-five meters per second. Range thirty-five hundred meters.” By intent, they had finished their decel so close that the other side could not attack them without wounding themselves.But this madgovernance just killed a billion people. “Sammy! Get usdown ! Land anywhere, hard.”
“Uh—” Sammy’s gaze caught his, and now he understood, too. But it was too late.
All systems died, a vanishing that left his huds clear and silent. For the first time in his life, Pham Nuwen felt a physical jolt on a starship. A million tonnes of hull and shielding absorbed and smoothed out the event, butsomething had smashed against them. Pham looked around the bridge. A crowd of voices came through the air, reports from all over but without filtering or analysis.
“Contact nuke, by God!”
One by one, a scattering of displays came online, the backup wallpaper. The view slid smoothly across the Tarelsk landscape and into the sky. TheFar Regard was turning at several degrees per second. Some of the junior analysts were climbing out of their restraints.
Sammy shouted across the bridge. “Pick up drill! Contact secondaries!”
On the single functioning window-wall, the Tarelsk landscape came back into view, ramps and towers and clear domes over farmland. Tarelsk was so large that it could almost survive without the outer-system agriculture. And they were headed down into that at—fifteen meters per second? Without functioning huds he couldn’t see a closing velocity.
“How fast, Sammy?”
His Flag Captain shook his head. “Don’t know. That nuke hit us from the Tarelsk side, and almost on center. We can’t be going more than twenty meters per second now.” But in the spinning wreck that theFar Regard had become, there was no way they could slow down any more.
Sammy’s crew were busy to distraction, trying to contact the rest of the ship, resuming contact with the other ships of the thirty. Pham sat listening, watching. All the thirty had been nuked. TheFar Regard was not the most or the least damaged. As the reports trickled in, their view turned and turned… and the landscape grew. Pham could see blast damage. The crazies had trashed some of their own farms in this attack. Almost dead ahead… Lord… it was the old office towers that he and Sura had bought in the first century.
Ship collisions came in enormous variety, from millimeter-per-second bruisings, chiefly of interest to harbor police… to vast, bright flashes that wreck planetoids and vaporize spacecraft. TheFar Regard ’s encounter with Tarelsk was something in between the extremes. A million tonnes of starship drove downward through pressure domes and multilevel residences, but not much faster than a human might run in a one-gee field.
A million tonnes does not stop easily. The collision went on and on and on, a screaming, twisting fury. The city levels crushed more easily than hull metal and drive core, but the ship and the city around it mingled into a single ruin.
It couldn’t have lasted more than twenty seconds, but when it was over, Pham and the others hung on their harnesses in the two-tenths gravity of Tarelsk’s surface. Light flickered from the buckled walls, and the displays were mostly nonsense. Pham unlatched from his harness and slid down to walk on the ceiling. Dust swirled near the ventilator grids, but his full-press coveralls were tightening. The bridge itself was sucking vacuum. On the command channel, he could hear Sammy working down through damage assessment. There had been five hundred living people aboard the
“We lost all forward stowage, Fleet Captain. It’ll take Ksecs to get the bodies out. We—”
Pham climbed a wall to the hatch, and slid it open just a crack. There was a brief gale of equalizing wind. “Our landing crews, Sammy. Are they okay?”
“Yes, sir. But—”
“Get ’em together. You can leave the others as a rescue party, but we’re going out.” And kick some ass.
The next few Ksecs were confused. There was so much happening, and happening all at once. For all the years of planning, no one had really believed that the operation might end up as ground combat. And even the Qeng Ho armsmen were not real fighters. Pham Nuwen had seen more blood and death in medieval Canberra than most of them had seen in their whole lives.
But what they were fighting was not a real military either. The mad governance of Tarelsk had not even warned the surface boroughs of the impending collisions. Acting on their own, most people had pulled back from the
