Hearing that news was as depressing as the memory of all the time he’d spent convalescing after the first tranche of procedures. He’d always kept himself in good shape. But he did get some malicious satisfaction from knowing that Yuri had even more replacements scheduled – starting with his liver, which was only twenty years old anyway. The doctors kept on telling him to stop drinking, which Yuri kept on ignoring. And then there was poor old Alik, who’d had to give up his peripherals. ‘They won’t do well in the tank,’ Jessika told him sternly. So he sulked off to DC for a week to some classified government clinic to have his even more classified spy gizmos extracted.
Kandara, to no one’s surprise, needed the least remedial work. However, like Alik, she had to have a small armoury’s worth of weapon peripherals removed. ‘It’s like being naked on my high-school prom dance floor,’ she confessed at dinner after the technicians had finished taking them out.
Callum had nearly made a smartarse comment, but decided cowardice was the best option. Besides, Jessika had later confided that Kandara had some initiator-made peripherals put back in – and told him not to tell Alik.
Lankin came in as they were all getting dressed. The Connexion science director had been appointed as the AvengingHeretic’s mission controller, marrying the technological requirements with the mission objective. Callum was glad someone with that level of experience and ability was overseeing the flight. Although he was only in his fifties, Lankin was damn good at his job.
‘You’re all needed at a full council meeting,’ Lankin told them.
‘When?’ Alik asked.
‘As soon as you’re dressed.’
Callum exchanged a glance with Yuri. That Lankin had come in person to tell them was significant.
‘Was something going critical before we left?’ Kandara asked.
‘If it was, I didn’t know,’ Alik said gruffly.
*
There was no formal title, nothing in any legitimate record; they were just known as the council. Officially they advised the Sol Senate security office, who implemented any policy or action. In reality, they’d been tasked with formulating the plan to strike back against the Olyix, no matter what the cost and how long it took.
The Kruse Station conference room was windowless, as if to emphasize its ultra-secure location somewhere in the Delta Pavonis system. A large table carved from dark-red rock took up the centre, with a vase of white and orange chrysanthemums sitting on its polished surface.
Callum smelt the flowers as soon as he came in and glanced over at Kandara, who was laughing at something Alik said. Now that she’d mentioned the lack of smell in the interface simulation, he knew he was doomed to notice it constantly.
Ainsley Zangari III was already sitting in one of the leather chairs, and so was his sister, Danuta. It had been a while since Ainsley Zangari himself had attended a meeting of the council. Kruse Station rumour had it that the founder of Connexion was undergoing a lot of therapy to help him cope with the fact that his decades-old paranoia about the Olyix had finally become real.
‘How’s your grandfather?’ Alik asked politely.
‘He’s managing, thank you,’ Ainsley III said.
Callum nodded sagely. Managing. No mention of recovering. He sat down at the table, greeting his aide, Eldlund, who was sitting next to Loi in the corner of the room.
‘How did it go?’ Eldlund asked keenly.
‘I got to fly it,’ Callum said modestly.
‘Wow!’
‘I’m not the greatest pilot, but the G8Turing handles the flight specifics. It’s more like giving directions.’
‘And the cortical interface?’
‘Good, but interpretation could be better. We just need time to get used to the system.’
Eldlund and Loi exchanged a glance.
‘What?’ Callum asked.
‘Time has never been our ally,’ Loi said.
Callum was going to ask his aide what he’d heard when Emilja Jurich and Adjutant-General Johnston came in together. They sat down without ceremony. Last to arrive was Soćko, accompanied by Captain Tral, who as always was wearing hir grey uniform.
‘Let’s get started,’ Emilja said. ‘Soćko?’
‘There is a squadron of dangerous ships flying down the wormhole to the Sol system,’ the human Neána said. ‘I sensed it in the Salvation of Life onemind three hours ago, as soon as a transport ship arrived from the enclave with the information. The onemind seems very confident.’
‘You mean these new ships are going to be more dangerous than the Deliverance ships?’ Alik said. ‘Are they the Resolution ships you’re always warning us about?’
‘No. These are not Resolution ships.’
‘So what sort of ships are we talking about?’ Ainsley III asked.
‘A new type. I don’t have a classification for them, as the Neána have not been aware of them before, but I did see their purpose in the onemind’s thoughts. They’re carrying some kind of gravitonic generator. I’m not sure how it works, but presumably it’s a variant on the gravitonic drive. However, the intent was very clear in the onemind’s thoughts: The enclave had provided them specifically to wreck the city generators.’
‘How can a gravity drive wreck the generators?’ Danuta asked.
‘If they can focus the gravity, make a coherent beam of it – which is what I think they’re doing – they’ll pull the shield generator away from the ground. Literally rip it free and suck it up into the air.’
‘Hellfire, how sure are you?’ Emilja asked.
Soćko gave her a regretful shrug. ‘I can’t give you percentages. Reading the onemind’s thought streams is like standing in a waterfall and trying to make out individual droplets. If I put my hand out to catch one, it disturbs the flow and they’ll know I’m there. But there are some droplets – the important ones, the ones it keeps focusing on – which repeat constantly. It has been reviewing the information and capabilities ever since the transport ship arrived. I think the Olyix must have made them specifically to end the siege.’
‘How long until they arrive?’ Johnston asked.
‘Ten days.’
‘Fuck,’ Callum grunted.
‘What the hell do we do now?’ Ainsley III demanded.
‘Bring S-Day forward,’ Johnston said. ‘Nothing else
