While Alis and Thula worked, Paul and Steven made a number of passes over the reactor, scanning it from various angles in order to build up a more detailed three-dimensional picture of it. The model was now rotating in the air before them. Peris stroked his chin and peered at it from every possible perspective. Rizzo simply poked it with her finger and said, “Bang.”
“Does it matter where we set the mine?” asked Steven.
“You’re asking the wrong person,” said Paul. “I’ve never blown up anything bigger than a truck. Those reactor walls are four feet of concrete and steel. I don’t just want to damage them a little. I want the explosion to make Chernobyl look like a mild case of wind.”
Alis appeared on the other side of the model, Thula behind her.
“I think I can guarantee that as long as the mine is set beside, or even near, the containment structure, then you will not want to be anywhere near it when it blows,” said Alis.
“Is there a safe distance?” asked Rizzo.
“Far away,” said Alis.
“Right,” said Rizzo.
“And even then, I’d prefer to be farther yet.”
“I didn’t know you were programmed to be funny,” said Rizzo.
“I wasn’t.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll set it for thirty minutes,” said Paul. “That’ll give us time to clear the atmosphere and watch the fireworks from orbit.”
“I have more good news for you,” said Alis. “Councillor Tiray was right: those secondary reactors are linked to the primary facility. When the big one goes, there’s a good chance that it’ll cause a system breakdown in the others. At the very least, they’ll cease to function, but I would anticipate a series of ancillary blasts.”
At that moment, a beeping came from the main cockpit, and the display produced an image of the Archaeon wormhole. A ship was emerging from it.
“A cargo transporter returning?” asked Paul.
Steven moved to the console and enlarged the image of the ship.
“No, and it’s not a known fleet craft. It’s not giving out a signal.”
“Hell,” said Paul. “They’ve found us.”
• • •
They worked fast. It would take the new arrival a while to reach Archaeon and breach its atmosphere, but its long-range scanners would reveal the presence of the Nomad before it even entered the planet’s orbit. They could try to hide from it by staying on the opposite side, allowing the planet to shield them, but they could only do that for so long before they would be forced to expose themselves in order to attempt an escape. The craft was much larger than the Nomad, and its firepower was undoubtedly greater. Taking into account all of those factors, Paul instructed Steven to land their craft close to the reactor’s containment dome in the hope that their smaller ship might be camouflaged by the machinery and buildings of the facility. In the event that they were discovered, their proximity to the reactor might also buy them some bargaining power: any attempt to destroy the Nomad from above risked damaging the reactor and irradiating Archaeon. Negotiation would be the only way to secure the Nomad’s surrender, although that gave Paul little consolation. He had no doubt that once surrender was achieved and the Nomad secured, everyone on board the ship, with the possible exception of Tiray, would be killed.
Of course, it was possible that the unknown voyager had been scheduled to arrive at Archaeon in any case, and knew nothing of the Nomad’s presence, but Paul doubted it. Here was another ship cloaked to make it appear like little more than a flying scrapheap, but scrapheaps did not emerge unscathed from wormholes. No, the craft was here because it had either followed their trail, or guessed their destination. Tiray was its target, and if their pursuers were aware that the wormhole map was in his possession, it wouldn’t have taken massive powers of deduction to conclude that he might eventually make his way to the secluded Archaeon system.
Paul watched the big ship approach the planet. He was frightened. He had been frightened almost from the moment that he had been forced to join the Brigades, just as he had lived in a state of near-constant fear during his time with the Resistance: fear of discovery, of betrayal, of torture; fear that something terrible might befall his mother, or his brother, or his friends because of a mistake that he had made. Paul was old beyond his years. He had fought and killed. He had suffered injury and privation. If he hadn’t been born to lead, then the very act of surviving had molded him that way.
Yet the young lieutenant still felt himself to be a fraud because he was afraid, and there was no one to whom he could admit his weakness, not even his brother. Lives depended on him; not just the lives of those on board the Nomad, but perhaps the fate of every living thing on his home planet, and he did not believe himself worthy or capable of accepting that burden. But Paul Kerr, now nearly eighteen, had not yet come to understand the truth about fear: that bravery and courage did not depend upon the absence of fear, but the control of it.
And so he silently prayed, although he did not know for what, exactly. It was enough to recite the words of childhood prayers like a mantra in the hope that, somewhere beyond, his god—any god—might be listening.
“They’re not following the same approach path that we did,” said Steven. “They’re ignoring the guidance.”
Paul watched the display. Instead of coming in on a route that would bring them almost directly over the reactor, the ship had turned northeast in its approach. Time; they had just been given a little more of it, and a little might be all that they needed. His fear vanished so quickly that he did not even recognize its passing, and it was replaced by the desire to act.
“Alis!” Paul shouted. “Status!”
“We’re primed,” said Thula, from the open bay in which Alis was making the final adjustments to the mine. “She just needs a timing, and then we’re ready to go.”
Paul returned his attention to Steven.
“I want a calculation,” he said. “Based upon that ship’s trajectory, calculate the point at which it will be here”—he indicated an area on the planet’s surface roughly corresponding to its north pole—“and the time it will take them to reach the reactor, allowing for their acceleration once they spot us. I don’t expect it to be exact, but I do need a ballpark, and I need it fast. Alis?”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Your assessment of ‘far away’ as a safe distance from the blast is a little inexact. Give me something better.”
“At full acceleration, I believe we will need to be at least fifty miles from the site when the initial explosion occurs.”
“Thank you. Did you hear that, Steven?”
“Yes. Got it. I’ve made a rough estimate on the other ship, given that I don’t have any idea of its engine capacity, and can only base it on our own. If they were to find out where we were at that point, it would take between eight and twelve minutes for them to reach us, but I’m kind of pulling that figure from my backside.”
Paul glanced behind him. Tiray was slumped in a chair, his arms folded, a scowl on his face. He looked like a sulky child. Rizzo was seated at a secondary console, and had activated the weapons systems. If they were forced to make a quick exit, Steven would need all of his concentration to pilot the Nomad, and Rizzo was a fine gunner. Peris was standing only a few feet from Paul, and watching him closely. Already he knew what the young officer was thinking.
“It’s dangerous,” he said. “You will only have a small window of opportunity, and your brother’s calculations are, by his own curiously phrased admission, far from precise.”
“Do you know what one of our instructors told us during Brigade training? He said that, in any military situation, a bad decision is better than no decision at all.”
“That was my class. I told you that.”
“So is it true?”
“Yes, although the right decision is always preferable.?
??
“If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”
“If I had a better idea, I’d tell you.”
“Then we’re agreed.”
“Hey,” said Steven. “Any chance you could share the big idea with the rest of us?”
“I will, just as soon as I’ve given Thula the timing for the mine. That okay with you, Rizzo?”
Rizzo shrugged.
“We’re still going to blow up something, right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all I need to know,” she replied, and returned to checking the heavy cannon and torpedoes.
Peris stepped closer to Paul.
“She’s an interesting young woman,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“When I say ‘interesting,’ I mean ‘terrifying.’”
“I know. Aren’t you glad she’s on our side?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure. And she’s only on ‘our’ side for now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that, deep down, she is not on my side, or Tiray’s. In the end, Rizzo, Thula, and your brother, they are all on your side. Alis I cannot speak for, but I suspect that her loyalties, beyond those to her own kind, now also lie with you.”
“Because seventy-five percent of them are human?”
“Yes, there’s that, but also because they trust you.”
“And you? Where do you stand?”
“As I said, I trust you too, at least until the time comes when you have to choose between your loyalty to your own kind and your loyalty to the Brigades.”
“I have no loyalty to the Brigades beyond keeping alive those under my command. You know that.”
Peris nodded.
“At least you are honest. You always have been. Should I summon Alis and Thula?”
“Please.”
Peris prepared to turn away, but Paul called his name. He spoke his next words softly, so that only he and Peris could hear them.
“I will not kill you unless you force me to,” he said.
“And I make the same promise to you,” Peris replied. “You are already a fine soldier, Paul. May we both live long enough to see you become an even better one.”
Paul watched him go. Once again, he was disturbed by his affection for the Illyri warrior. Shaking off the feeling, he moved deeper into the main cockpit and enlarged the planetary display.
“Steven,” he said, “prime the engines. On my mark, I want you to follow this course, and I want you to stay low . . .”
CHAPTER 56
Each of them had a role to play. Steven monitored the progress of the recently arrived ship, checking for any deviation in its course, any sign that the presence of the Nomad might have been discovered. Rizzo stayed on the cannon, tracking the ship even though it was out of range, ready to fire should it suddenly present itself as an immediate threat and come into her sights. Thula and Alis made a final check on the mine, even, to Paul’s dismay, briefly activating the timer to make sure that it worked. Paul didn’t want to hear the words activate and mine used while the device was still on board the Nomad. Peris prepped the ship for a fast getaway, conducting the same checks required prior to a boost. Tiray was enlisted to assist with stowing away any loose items, but he helped only reluctantly, despite the fact that a falling helmet could concuss him just as easily as any of them.
Paul tried to keep an eye on everything at once. Most of his attention lay with Steven and the other ship cruising only half a mile above the planet’s surface. The Nomad was like a small fish hiding from a great shark, knowing that its refuge was only temporary, and it would inevitably be found; it could only hope its speed and agility would be enough to save it from the predator’s jaws.
When all was ready, and Paul was certain that no more could be done, they waited, silently watching the display, monitoring the slow, certain movements of the hostile ship as it scanned the landscape for traces of intrusion.
“Give me a count,” said Paul. “Fifteen-second intervals.”
“Five minutes, at present velocity,” said Steven.
“Understood. Alis, prepare for release on my command.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
Alis moved into position, Thula shadowing her. By now Thula was growing familiar with the Mech. He didn’t understand quite what she had done with the timer and the mine, for Thula’s particular strengths did not lie in electronics and circuitry, but he was an astute observer of body language, and was able to get out of Alis’s way an instant before she moved, and intervene to lift or hold before she even had to ask.
“Four forty-five,” said Steven.
Something on the display caught his attention: a minute change in the hunter’s course and velocity. He stayed with it until he was certain that it was no cause for alarm.
“Four thirty.”
Paul moved to join Alis and Thula in the area of the Nomad above the weapons bay, which contained the mines and torpedoes. The mine could not be released while the Nomad was on the ground, but their heat signature would draw the hunter to them the moment that they lifted off. Yes, the deployment of weaponry could be controlled from the cockpit, but Alis had elected to carry out her part in the plan at the bay so that she could focus on it more completely. The Mech did not want any distractions when dropping the mine, and she was once again plugged directly into the ship’s systems. In case of any problems, she had also left open part of the decking, exposing the manual release lever.
The plan at least had the virtue of being simple. At Paul’s signal, Steven would start the Nomad’s engines and lift the craft vertically until it was thirty or forty feet above the surface of the planet. The bay doors would then open, and the mine would drop (and mine and drop were two more words that made Paul uncomfortable when used in the same sentence). Once the mine was in place, the Nomad would beat a retreat west, on a course parallel to the ground and making no apparent attempt to ascend. Paul wanted the pursuing craft to stay low, and to head directly for the reactor. The Nomad was the bait in their trap, and to make it even more attractive to those hunting them, he had told Steven to adopt an uneven, halting movement, as though their ship might have been damaged in the course of the many boosts that had brought it to Archaeon.
He gave one further order, one that caused even Peris to object: the bay doors were to remain open after the mine was released and until they had cleared the planet’s atmosphere, assuming they lived that long. It was not standard operating procedure; it was, in fact, actively against all protocols, but this way the bay would remain sealed off from the rest of the ship. It would be exposed to the atmosphere of Archaeon while the mine was being dropped into position, and Paul did not want to risk any of those spores taking up residence on the Nomad. His plan was that they would briefly reenter Archaeon’s atmosphere after leaving it, and the heat of reentry would burn everything in the open bay. They would be forced to dump all remaining mines and torpedoes before they tried to escape the planet, because heat and explosives did not mix, and Paul did not want to avoid being destroyed by their pursuers only to have the Nomad blown up by its own ordnance.
“Three thirty,” said Steven. “Three fifteen. Wait, they’re changing course! Heading toward us. Definitely heading toward us. Three minutes.”
“Someone has put two and two together,” said Peris.
“All right,” said Paul. “Alis, prepare for release. Steven, get us up in the air.”
The ship shuddered and vibrated as its engines kicked into life. They felt it ascend slowly, Steven exercising extreme caution because he had wedged them into the smallest space available among the various components of the reactor. Nevertheless, the Nomad still rocked slightly, and they were forced to grab hold of whatever they could in order to steady themselves. Only Tiray misjudged, crashing against the hull of the ship and str
iking his head. He sank to his knees, holding his injured scalp. A thin stream of blood trickled from it, but no one had time to see to him. He was conscious for now, so he couldn’t be too badly hurt, and Paul was secretly relieved that the politician was out of commission, if only for a while. He did not trust him, and had Tiray decided to interfere with Steven or Alis at this delicate time, he could have doomed them all.
“We’re clear,” said Steven.
“Hold her steady!” Paul ordered. “Alis, release the mine.”
They felt the bay doors open. Thula was poised above the manual release, ready to pull on it if necessary, but the mine dropped cleanly. Paul couldn’t help but tense for an explosion as the device descended, but Alis had done her work well. The mine would detonate, but only at the appointed time.
“Steven, start moving, and get ready to give us full throttle at my command.”
Steven did as he had been instructed, taking the Nomad away from the reactor while making it appear to limp like a wounded animal. He kept a close watch on the display as their pursuers accelerated to intercept them.
“God, it’s fast,” said Steven. “Forget what I said earlier. They’ll be at the reactor in fewer than five minutes.”
By now Alis and Thula were back with them. Paul gestured to her to take the copilot’s chair, and she did so.
“Is that going to give us enough time?” he asked.
“It will be close,” said Alis. “There are too many unknown factors to calculate with certainty. We don’t have any idea of the size of the reactor, or what kind of chain reaction an explosion might provoke. I can guarantee this: as long as it stays on its present course, that ship will be in the blast radius when the mine goes off, even if the reactor itself doesn’t blow. The question is, will we?”