Citadel Page 20

  "Ceremonial concessions?" Beor said.

  "That each group would give up things that they saw as their 'rights' in the conflict," To'Jopeviq said. "They refused economic concessions but would consider territorial concessions based on points of honor."

  "It sounds like they need a good eugenics program," Beor said. "There are some very stupid humans."

  "It seems that way," To'Jopeviq said. "Part of it, though, might be that one of the groups was already subject to a eugenics program. That explains the fierceness of battle but not the stupidity. And they really are stupid. Their history is replete with groups giving up important, even strategically vital, terrain for peace only to have to battle to get it back when the aggressor, naturally, didn't accept just part of the prize."

  "Who won?" Beor asked.

  "What?"

  "Well, did the side that gave up the strategic ground win or lose in the end?" Beor asked.

  "Hmmm..." To'Jopeviq said. "I'm just starting to look at their history. Just their military history is a big chunk..." He paused and looked at some recent wars in Terra's history. "They have had some long-drawn insurgencies..."

  "Look for par war," Beor said. "More or less equal sides."

  "Last big one was what they refer to as the Cold War," To'Jopeviq said. "The battles were mostly between insurgencies. The two major players were the Soviet Union and NATO. Lead group of NATO was... the Americans again."

  "Did the Americans give up territory?" Beor asked.

  "Repeatedly," To'Jopeviq said. "And they lost virtually every insurgency. And they lost the spy war. They got their butts thoroughly ki—" He stopped. "They won?"

  "Interesting," Beor said. "Previous major war?"

  "World War Two," To'Jopeviq said. "Hot war. USSR and Americans are allies against an axis of three enemies. Along with a minor group called the British. British were early in the war. Gave up territorial concessions for peace. Got their butts kicked, of course. The Americans lost almost all their overseas possessions. USSR was deeply invaded..."

  "And they won?" Beor said.

  "Damn," To'Jopeviq said. "I can see why the Horvath concentrated their bombardments on the Americans."

  "How many people did they lose?" Beor asked.

  "Millions," To'Jopeviq said. "And more to the plagues. Here's a good example of how stupid humans are. And especially these Americans. They entered a plea to the Glatun to intervene because, get this, the Horvath were using weapons of mass destruction against the civilian population!"

  "That is funny," Beor said, hissing. "What else do they expect anyone to do? Destroying your enemy's will to fight is the whole purpose of war. What's their current status? After the bombardments?"

  "The most powerful country on the planet by a long shot. I'm starting to see a pattern..."

  "You think? Do they have enemies?"

  "Pretty much the rest of the planet," To'Jopeviq said. "There are a few countries that don't actively hate them, but not many."

  "I see an opportunity here..."

  There was a quiet, almost hesitant, tap at the door.

  "Come," To'Jopeviq said.

  "Uh, we have a little bitty problem," Toer said, sticking his head in the door.

  "Which is?"

  "The humans have retaliated and cut off their hypercom connection," Toer said. "We don't have any up-to-date information anymore."

  The good part about this job had been the almost total lack of information control on the part of the humans. Much of it was, obviously, disinformation. There was no way that any group could be as free with military secrets as the humans and especially the Americans. There were full specifications for their ships available on many "security" sites such as Janes'. Which just meant that the specifications were false. The Horvath did that sort of thing, overstating the ability of their craft.

  The humans were clearly doing the same thing. Many of the abilities of their systems were clearly false. The only way they could have drives and lasers as powerful as listed was if the Glatun had given them access to all of the Glatun's most advanced technology. And the Glatun were not that generous.

  But by sifting through the lies, it was possible to get some clue as to their actual ability. Even Toer had finally agreed that the SAPL could not be as powerful as listed—it had that much raw power but there was no way that the humans could have mirrors that actually handled seventy petawatts—and the new Thunderbolt missiles could not have the drives or penetrators listed. But there were still nuggets of truth to be teased out.

  Now all of that was gone.

  "Well, we know they cannot complete their projects on Troy without fuel," Beor said. "And they don't have fuel. So we'll have to do our projections on that basis. Take that into your calculations."

  "What if they find a source of fuel?" Toer asked.

  "Then we will be wrong," Beor said. "But we won't be wrong."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "We waited until we were sure we had enough fuel to do the tanker," Nathan said, proudly. "Isn't she a beauty?"

  "It's a blimp," Tyler said.

  And that was just what it looked like. A half-formed blimp at that. The spiders that had woven the pipes for the now operating, if slowly, gas mine were now spinning the tanker. They were about half done, which meant that it looked like... half a big, silver blimp.

  "That's just the inner bladder," Nathan said with a slight pout. "We're going to insert it in the hull to prevent bleeding."

  "Ah," Tyler said. "Where's the hull?"

  "We're spinning it up," Nathan said. "Out system. Once it cools enough we'll send it in-system to pick up the bladder. Seal the end, put on some valves and we're good to go."

  "Time?" Tyler asked. "The SecDef is getting antsy that his pretty little fleet is still docked. And then there's the rolling blackouts on Earth."

  "By the time the first tank on the mine is full, the tanker will be ready," Nathan said. "Month or so. I'm figuring the gas mine takes longer to get into full operation than the tanker."

  "Well, it's already pumping enough to fill up Granadica and get her back on track," Tyler said. "We're going to need her twin. Fast."

  "You know, I haven't asked," Nathan said. "But this is going to be a lot of fuel. Where are you going to put it?"

  "Someplace very very safe," Tyler said.

  —|—

  "CM," Dana said, sticking her head in the Flight NCOIC's office. She had her arms wrapped around her and she was shivering. "Is it the power shortage that has the AO freezing? I was just wondering." She didn't have any real cold-weather clothes on the Troy. A sweater under her flight-suit was the best she could do. And that wasn't cutting it.

  Even with all the work done on Troy using the SAPL, the battlestation was well outside of the life zone. The sun's rays couldn't keep it above freezing.

  That was normally handled by heating elements woven into the external portions of the crew areas. The crew areas were, essentially, self-contained space stations within the battlestation. They were surrounded with insulation and their temperature maintained by the heating coils.

  Which apparently weren't working.

  "I was wondering the same thing," Glass said, blowing on his hands. "I tried turning the thermostat up but I didn't get anything out of it. And it's not like we can start a fire. Well, we could but it wouldn't be a good thing..."

  "Is there somebody we can check with?"

  —|—

  "Colonel Helberg, Captain DiNote."

  "Helberg, Captain."

  "I'm getting some concerned inquiries regarding the temperature regulators in the Squadron area."

  "Ah, that. Yes, it's a precautionary measure. Should be cleared up in short order."

  "Precautionary measure?"

  "We're about to do some major work in your AO with the SAPL. It was feared that there might be a high degree of thermal transfer. Lowering the temperature in your sector reduces the possibility of excessive thermal transfer as well as increasing the rate of cooli
ng."

  "So... it's freezing now, but pretty soon it's going to get really hot? Could you be more precise about 'thermal transfer'?"

  "We're hoping for simply warm. But we'll probably do a precautionary evacuation of your Charlie Flight areas."

  "I could have used some coordination on this, Colonel."

  "Things have been somewhat complex lately, Captain. I apologize."

  "I'll tell my people. Oh, may I inquire, purely for curiosity's sake, what you mean by 'major SAPL work in my AO' given that SAPL can gut battlecruisers like a trout?"

  —|—

  "They're making the what?" Dana said.

  She'd pulled a blanket off her bed and was wrapped in it for the briefing. She didn't care if it wasn't regulation, she was cold, dammit!

  "The primary phase one fuel tank," Glass said, blowing on his hands. "They were going to do it just before the fuel shortage. Since it requires a lot of support, welding and bots they had to wait 'til they had enough fuel to continue. Then, apparently, they didn't get the word around. The heaters still work. They're just turned off to chill the zone."

  "'Cause they're going to do what, exactly, with SAPL?" Sean said. "'Cause it's, like, SAPL, isn't it? The beam that cuts through the Troy faster than a Rangora assault ship?"

  "All hands! All hands! Stand by for address from Squadron CO!"

  "I wish they'd just use the 1MC," Sean said, gesturing at the box on the wall with his chin. He had his hands in his armpits. "The voices! The voices! They're talking to me again!"

  "Starting in thirty minutes, we will begin an orderly evacuation of the Charlie Flight AO. Alpha and Bravo AOs should be unaffected. Permission is granted for all personnel to fall in on suits to observe SAPL operation in main bay. Viewing area will be shuttle launch tubes. Operation is inflation of armoring for Phase One Primary Fuel Station. Design documents downloading on acceptance. That is all."

  Dana hit the link for the design documents and started to giggle.

  "Oh, that's just—" Sean said.

  "Wrong?" Glass finished for him. "And I'm glad the CO gave permission because this I gotta see."

  "And I can control the heat in my suit," Dana said. "I hadn't wanted to use it since it uses power. But if we've got permission... Request leave to fall in on space suit, CM!"

  "Granted," Glass said. "Briefing's over! Fallout and fall in on your suits."

  "I'm cranking mine up to tropical," Sean said.

  —|—

  The first time Dana had seen all the shuttles of the 142nd outbound it had been a wonderful sight. Since then she'd been to a couple of squadron formations, which were just a pain.

  But they were funny as hell scattered all over the docking tube in the main bay. You could tell the engineers from the cox in an instant. The engineers spent half their working time in suits and were perfectly comfortable in EVA. Most of them were floating upside down, sort of drifting near the shuttles if not on them, to give room for the...

  The coxswains, on the other hand, by and large had qualed on their suits but weren't exactly experts. They were mostly holding onto bits and pieces of shuttles and trying not to go Dutchman in the main bay. Not that you were going to go far.

  "You seem to be experiencing some issues, CM," Dana said.

  Like a lot of the engineers, she'd placed herself near a coxswain, in this case Glass, but in a position that, to the coxswain, seemed to be inverted. Her helmet was drifting about a meter above the flight NCOIC.

  "Just getting adjusted for a better view," Glass said, his feet rotating "upwards."

  "I don't think you can see anything from that position, CM," Dana said, reaching down and gently giving his head a tap. "You can do this in a nullball court. What's the problem with the main bay?"

  "No references," Glass said. "I mean, yeah, there are references, but between trying to control the suit and trying to get references..."

  Dana drifted her suit down, using her plants to control the navopak, and grabbed his legs.

  "Taking your boots down to latch point," she said.

  "I can maneuver..." Glass protested.

  "And I think we need to work on your suit quals, CM," Dana said, bringing his boots into contact with Thirty-Nine. "Lock it down, CM."

  "Locked down," Glass said, crossing his arms.

  "I think we need to work on all the coxswains' quals," Dana said, chuckling.

  "Agreed," Glass said with a sigh.

  "Maybe make them do some real work on the boats," Dana said. "Yours could use some polish, CM."

  "You are about to cross a line, CM," Glass said.

  "Aye, aye, Captain Crunch," Dana said, giggling.

  "All hands," the CO commed. "Stand by for SAPL fire."

  —|—

  Tyler didn't want to use the Starfire for this but he did want to see with his own eyes. And the precise spot they were putting in the tank wasn't in view from his quarters.

  So like what appeared to be about ninety-percent of the base, he'd gone out into the main bay. Since his suit wasn't any different from the generic ones, for once he could sort of blend in the crowd.

  And it was quite a crowd. He knew there were upwards of four thousand people already on the Troy but it was rare you saw them all in one place.

  You could tell the ones that practiced in EVA from the ones that didn't. Tyler had to put himself in the latter category and it was obvious as he bumped into another space-suited figure.

  "Sorry," Tyler commed on the local channel. "I'm usually working in an office."

  The local com didn't even have a personal identifier so the guy had no clue who he was.

  "No problem," the man said. "You might want to lock down your boots."

  "It'd be above me if I did that," Tyler said. He gently corrected his position and got into a better configuration to see the shot. "That okay?"

  "Good enough," the guy said. "Can you hold that?"

  "Working on it," Tyler said as he started to drift again. "I had it..."

  —|—

  "Troy has pull," Butch said. "You get used to it. Try doing salvage in a spinning destroyer."

  "I spend as little time in EVA as I can," the clerk said. "I don't like sucking vacuum."

  "Nearly did that one time," Butch said. "Was drawing helium off one of the ships and got hit by a gush. That and the hose cracked my sled."

  "Sierra Seventeen," the clerk said. "That would make you... James... Allen. Probationary welder. Good job you did out there."

  "Thanks," Butch said. "Which office do you work in?"

  "Corporate," the guy replied. "I see most of the incident reports."

  "And you have one hell of a memory," Butch said.

  "It's the first incident in the last two quarters that had a near-fatal outcome," the guy said, drifting away again. "Dammit!"

  "Hang on, dude," Butch said, grabbing his ankle and drawing him down. He had to correct his own inertia while he was doing it but that was second nature at this point. He got the guy stable and held onto his navpak. "Just don't try to correct. I've got it."

  "Thank you," the guy said. "That's mighty kind. As I said, I don't get out in suits much."

  "I hope you checked your suit," Butch said.

  "I did," the guy said in an odd tone. "And I had other people check it as well."

  "That knew more than you or other clerks?"

  "Uh, that would be A," the man said, chuckling. "I checked it. Then they checked it and made sure it was working. And they knew what they were doing."

  "I hope the guys doing this burn know what they're doing," Butch said. "It sounds crazy to me."

  Price had explained it to him but it still didn't make sense.

  The SAPL had been used to drill a hole in the wall of the Troy. All normal. Happened all the time. Then they'd shoved ice down it. Standard water ice made from the main tanks. Then, and Butch had had a hand in it, they'd shoved a solid tube of nickel-iron down on top of the ice and welded the hole shut.

  "It's how Troy
was made," the guy said. "Sort of. Same general concept. The tough part is going to be getting all the volatiles out so it doesn't contaminate the helium."

  The idea was that they'd melt the iron on top of the hole. When it was liquid enough the ice would boil and spread out the melted area into a bubble. Wait for it to cool, cut a hole in the side to let out the water and you had a big bubble to put the helium fuel into.

  "All personnel, stand by for SAPL burn," Paris commed.

  "They're using the Ung beam on spread power," the guy said a moment later. "Seventy petawatts of power."

  "That's..." Butch did the math in his head. "That's like a few thousand of my welding sets."

  "Yep," the guy said. "It's a beautiful thing."

  "Three... two... one... burn..." Paris commed.

  —|—

  "Oh!" Dana said. Her visor had automatically polarized as the wall of Troy turned white hot.

  "Sweet!" Glass said.

  The center point where the beam was hitting was white but the heat could be seen going to cherry red around it. The beam started to swing around, spreading the heat onto the target area and slowly heating it.

  —|—

  "Paris, how's the readings?" the guy commed.

  "You think Paris is going to respond right now?" Butch said, chuckling.

  The guy didn't respond for a second.

  "Uh..." he said. "Sort of. Looks like things are good. I sort of had a hand in this. So, yeah, Paris responded. And everything is nominal."

  "Oh," Butch said. "Where'd you say you worked?"

  "Here," the guy said. "On Troy. Mostly. I'm with LFD Corporate."

  LFD was the parent company of Apollo.

  "Full melt should take less than fifteen minutes, which... well, that's just insane."

  "I dunno," Butch said. "I don't work with SAPL."

  "I do," the guy said. "I've been working with SAPL and Apollo since there wasn't an Apollo. Just some guys with some mirrors trying to melt a bitty little asteroid. Took us six months and we could do the same job in a few minutes now."

  "Oh," Butch said. "Uh. Sorry. I didn't know you were a boss."