signals automation. We have to get our Command and Control off the net.”
Lighthill stepped close to the displays. There was still a picture from Parliament Hall, but no one was behind the camera: the view wandered aimlessly, finally centering on the ceiling. Across the other displays, Most Bright lights had blossomed, queries to the Command Center, launch announcements from the King’s Rocket Offense forces. The world coming to an end.
Finally, Lighthill spoke. “I know, sir. We are here to prevent you from doing that.” Her combateers had spread around the now crowded Command and Control Center. Not a single tech or officer was out of their reach now. The big corporal was pulling open a cargo pannier, setting up additional equipment… game displays?
Dugway finally found his voice. “We suspected a deep-cover agent. I was sure it was Rachner Thract. What fools we were. All along it was Victory Smith working for Pedure and the Kindred.”
A traitor at the heart. It explained everything, but—Belga looked at the displays, the network-massaged reports of Accord launches coming in from all directions. She said, “What of it is really true, Lieutenant? Is it all a lie, even the attack on Southmost?”
For a moment Underville thought the lieutenant wouldn’t answer. The target circles at Southmost had shrunk to points. The news camera view of Parliament Hall dome lasted a second longer. Then Belga had a fleeting impression of the rock bulging downward, of light beyond—and the display went blank. Victory Lighthill flinched, and when she finally answered Belga, her voice was soft and hard. “No. That attack was very real.”
FIFTY-SIX
“You’re sure she’ll be able to see me?”
Marli looked up from his gadgets. “Yes, sir. And I’ve got a clear-to-talk from her huds.”
You’re on, Podmaster. The greatest performance of your life. “Qiwi! Are you there?”
“Yes, I—” and he heard Qiwi’s quick intake of breath. Heard. There was no video coming back this way; the desperation of this situation was no fake. “Father!”
Nau cradled Ali Lin’s head and shoulders in his arms. The ziphead’s wounds were gouges, oozing a swamp of blood through makeshift bandages.Pest, I hope the guy isn’t dead. But above all, this had to look real; Marli had done his best.
“Tas Vinh, Qiwi. He and Trinli jumped us, killed Kal Omo. They would have killed Ali if… if I hadn’t let them get away.” The words tumbled out, fueled by true rage and fear and guided by the tactical necessities. The savage attack of traitors, timed for when everything was most critical, when an entire civilization stood at risk. The destruction of North Paw. “I saw two of the kittens drown, Qiwi. I’m sorry, we couldn’t get close enough to save them—” Words failed him, but artfully.
He heard small choking sounds from the other end of the connection, the sounds Qiwi made in moments of absolute horror. Damn, that could start a memory cascade. He pushed down his fear and said, “Qiwi, we still have a chance. Have the traitors shown themselves at Benny’s?” Has PhamNuwen gotten through to the parlor?
“No. But we know something has gone terribly wrong. We lost the video from North Paw, and now it looks like war down on Arachna. This is a private link, but everyone saw me leave Benny’s.”
“Okay. Okay. This is good, Qiwi. Whoever are in this with Vinh and Trinli are still confused. We have a chance, the two of us—”
“But surely we can trust—” Qiwi’s protest trailed off, and she didn’t give him any argument. Good. This soon after a scrubbing, Qiwi was most unsure of herself. “Okay. ButI can help. Where are you hiding? One of the sluiceways?”
“Yes, trapped behind the outer hatch. But if we can get out, we can rescue the situation. L1-A has—”
“Which sluiceway?”
“Uh.” He looked at the face of the hatch. A number was just visible in Marli’s light. “S-seven-four-five. Does that—”
“I know where it is. I’ll see you in two hundred seconds. Don’t worry, Tomas.”
Lord.Qiwi’s recovery was awesome. Nau waited a moment, then glanced questioningly at Marli.
“The connection is down, sir.”
“Okay. Realign. See if you can punch through to Ritser Brughel.” This might be his last chance to check on the ground operation before everything was settled, one way or another.
TheInvisible Hand was over the horizon from Southmost when the missiles arrived there. Nevertheless, Jau’s displays showed flashes against the upper atmosphere. And their trailing satellites relayed a detailed analysis of the destruction. All three nukes were on target.
But Ritser Brughel was not entirely happy. “The timing wasn’t right. They didn’t get the best penetration.”
Bil Phuong’s voice came over the bridge-wide channel. “Yes, sir. That depended on high-level ordnance knowledge—things that are up on L1.”
“Okay. Okay. We’ll make do. Xin!”
“Yes, sir?” Jau looked up from his console.
“Are your people ready to hit the missile fields?”
“Yes, sir. The burn we just completed will put us over most of them. We’ll take out a good part of the Accord’s forces.”
“Pilot Manager, I want you to personally—” A tone sounded on Brughel’s console. There was no video, but the Vice-Podmaster was listening to something incoming. After a moment, Brughel said, “Yes, sir. We can make up for that. What is your situation?”
What’s happening up there? What’s happening to Rita?Jau forced his attention away from the long-distance conversation, and looked at his own situation board. In fact, he was pushing his zipheads to the limit. They were beyond finesse now. There was no way they could disguise this operation from the Spider networks. The Accord missile fields stretched across a swath of the northern continent, and they only approximately followed the track of theInvisible Hand. Jau’s pilots were coordinating a dozen ordnance zipheads. TheHand’ s patchwork of battle lasers could take out near-surface launchpads, but only if they were given a fifty-millisecond dwell time. Hitting everything would be a miracle ballet of firepower. Some of the deepest targets, offensive sites, would be hit by digger bombs. Those had already been launched, were now arcing down behind them.
Jau had done everything he could to make this work.I didn’t have anychoice. Every few seconds, the mantra floated up through his consciousness, the response to the equally persistentI am not a butcher.
But now… now there might be a safe way to evade Brughel’s terrible orders.Be honest, you’re still a butcher. But of hundreds, not millions.
Without the detailed geographic and ordnance advice from L1, any number of small errors might be made. The Southmost strike showed that. Jau’s fingers drifted over his keyboard, sending last-second advice to his team. The mistake was very subtle. But it would introduce a tree of random deviations into their attack on the antimissiles. Many of those strikes would now be way off target. The Accord would have a chance against the Kindred nukes.
Rachner Thract paced back and forth in the visitor holding box. How long could it take Underhill to come out? Maybe the cobber had changed his mind, or simply forgotten what he was about. The sentry looked upset, too. He was talking on some kind of comm line, his words inaudible.
Finally, there was the whine of hidden motors. A moment later the old wood doors slid aside. A guide-bug emerged, closely followed by Sherkaner Underhill. The guard came racing around his sentry box. “Sir, could I have a word with you? I’m getting—”
“Yes, but let me talk to the Colonel here for just a moment.” Underhill seemed to sag under the weight of his parka, and every step took him steadily to the side. The sentry fidgeted by his post, not sure what to do. The guide-bug patiently dragged Underhill back onto a more or less straight path headed for Thract.
Underhill reached the visitor holding box. “I have a few free minutes now, Colonel. I’m very sorry about your losing your job. I want to—”
