Oblivion, page 17
“Our ship did not crash here,” Oskar explained. “Our ancestors were pirates. They were marooned here.”
They all fell silent while the Spartans digested this. John activated TEAMCOM so Linda would be looped in on whatever followed—not because he thought it would be a threat to Blue Team, but because he wanted her to hear it firsthand. Planetary marooning was a gross violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, a practice so inhumane that the Colonial Administration Authority prohibited its inclusion as a punishment in any Planetary Penal Code and would imprison anyone involved in doing it. And to maroon someone on a place like Netherop? John could not even imagine that kind of cruelty.
Finally he asked, “Your ancestors were marooned here on Netherop? Somebody left them here with no way off?”
“That is how it has been explained to us.” Lena shrugged. “Our ancestors preyed on the cargo ships supplying the colonies. I am sure when someone caught them and put them here, everyone expected them to die in the misery they deserved.”
“But they didn’t die,” Kelly said. “They managed to survive . . . and have children?”
Lena nodded. “Because they found the Cave Cities,” she said. “There was no food, but they had water.”
“And there were tools.” John looked back toward the spider machine. “Like your mountain runners?”
“A few tools,” Arne said. “Most came from our ancestors. The other things . . . well, even when someone can dig it out and figure out what it did, it usually doesn’t work.”
“Understandable,” Fred said. “The Cave Cities have to be, what, ten thousand years old? A hundred thousand?”
Lena cocked her head and looked at him. “What’s a year?”
“It’s . . .” John stopped, realizing that he didn’t know how to answer. It was obvious these “Castoffs” knew some terminology and drew a blank on other things. His onboard computer displayed a not-so-helpful message on his HUD: NETHEROP COMPLETES ONE SOLAR REVOLUTION EVERY 2.4 STANDARD YEARS.
But what would that mean to Lena and her companions? If Netherop had anything like a year, it would be measured in terms of seasons or changes in light—and Blue Team had not been on the planet long enough make any meaningful observations about either.
Finally John said, “I’ll explain later.” He switched to TEAMCOM. “Blue Four, are you following all this?”
“Affirmative,” Linda said. “It makes me want to shoot someone—a lot of someones.”
“Me too,” John said. “But whoever did this probably died fifty years ago. Are you on the rim yet?”
“Affirmative.”
“What are the rest of the Castoffs doing?”
“They are still running, and it does not look as though they are coming back,” Linda said. “But I am observing one problem.”
“Go ahead.”
“They are following the same bearing we are,” Linda said. “I think perhaps they are trying to beat us to the Lucky Break.”
CHAPTER 11
* * *
* * *
Ninth Age of Reclamation
41st Cycle, 150 Units (Covenant Battle Calendar)
Flotilla of Unsung Piety, Intrusion Corvette Quiet Faith
Supersynchronous Orbit, Planet N’ba, Eryya System
Nizat ‘Kvarosee forced himself to stand motionless near the back of the bridge, his fingers steepled in front of him to keep his hands from fidgeting, his gaze fixed on the overhead to be sure his eyes did not lock on a tracking station or communications console. He would have liked to pace the deck, but such actions from a commander did not inspire confidence.
Nizat’s plan to sniff out the infidels’ Office of Naval Intelligence could not have been simpler. First, he would allow an ONI boarding party to storm the Steadfast Strike and capture the anti-gravity harness and personal shield in which the two Luminal Beacons were hidden. Then he would repel the assault and, once the humans were a short distance away, detonate the frigate’s self-destruct charge to make it appear the crew was truly trying to protect Covenant technology. After that, it would be an easy matter of waiting until the ONI knowledge priests took the captured technology back to their discovery temple.
But the mere presence of the demon Spartans changed everything. The chance of them appearing in such a remote location should have been almost zero. In fact, that was why he had chosen N’ba for his plan.
And yet, here they were.
An unanticipated test of his worthiness. If the demons were allowed to reach the Steadfast Strike, there would be no controlling the situation. They might be able to deactivate the self-destruct charges and capture the vessel intact—and even Nizat did not believe ONI’s destruction to be worth the risk of allowing the humans to reverse-engineer a fully equipped Covenant frigate. But if he could thwart them and capture one—alive or dead, it did not matter—perhaps he could turn their presence to his favor.
Was it possible that they had been sent to him by the gods themselves? It seemed too much to ask, and yet . . . capturing a Spartan was the one victory that might convince the Hierarchs of his truth—of the danger their ONI creators posed to the Covenant and its Great Journey—and return him to the Path of Honor.
Tam ‘Lakosee spun away from the surface monitoring console and came aft. At first Nizat thought his young steward was bringing word that the demons had been located again, but that hope was crushed when ‘Lakosee paused at the listening station. Had the news been good, there would have been no need to ask for more information. Nizat continued to study the overhead until ‘Lakosee left the communications station, then finally lowered his gaze as the steward arrived.
“You have something to report?” Nizat was careful to keep the frustration from his voice. After all, it was not ‘Lakosee who had allowed the demons to slip away. “Proceed.”
“One of the Wasals has started to detect personal communication signals.”
Wasals were small surveillance craft normally used to find hostile vessels in multibody orbital systems. They were poorly suited to hunting enemy foot soldiers on a planetary surface, but they were what Nizat had, so they were what was dispatched.
“I regret to report that the signals are too feeble to locate,” ‘Lakosee continued. “We know little more than before.”
“Yet, a little more is more,” Nizat said. “What have we learned?”
“The signal could have come from anywhere between the main body of survivors and ten thousand units short of the Steadfast Strike. If we ignore our assumptions about the enemy’s destination, the signals could even be coming from down in the flatlands or the far side of the mountains.”
“I see.” Nizat was no expert in human transmission modes, but he had heard terms such as multipath propagation, frequency jumping, terrain diffraction, and ionospheric reflection often enough to know how difficult it could be to locate a source inside a planetary atmosphere—especially when the signal creators were taking measures to keep themselves hidden. “How long before the Wasals narrow that down?”
‘Lakosee hesitated. “The gods may take pity on us and give us a signal they can triangulate. But if that has not happened yet . . .”
“It would be folly to count on it,” Nizat finished.
“Your wisdom is boundless, Fleetmaster.” ‘Lakosee dipped his head, then gave a tentative mandible clack and said, “Perhaps it is time to send in a close-reconnaissance mission.”
“Send it where?” Nizat asked. “Did you not say the signal could be coming from anywhere?”
“I did,” ‘Lakosee said. “I mean to suggest we reconnoiter the entire route.”
It was an obvious step, one that any commander with an adequate supply of fighter craft would readily employ. But the Flotilla of Unsung Piety did not have an adequate supply of anything here. And after the losses it had already taken trying to stop the Spartans from interfering with Nizat’s plan, it was especially short of fighter craft.
Still, ‘Lakosee would learn nothing if Nizat dismissed the suggestion out of hand. Better to let him see its weaknesses for himself. And there was, after all, a small possibility that ‘Lakosee himself had developed a workable plan.
“Tell me what you are thinking,” Nizat said.
‘Lakosee once again dipped his head and gave another subtle clack. “It would be my honor, Fleetmaster. I suggest we start with a strafing run on the main body of survivors.”
“Why waste the carrier gas?” Nizat asked. “N’ba and its heat will kill them soon enough.”
“Because an attack will tell us whether the demons remain with them,” ‘Lakosee said. “If they are there, they will defend the column and reveal themselves.”
“By destroying our craft, as they did last time?”
“We might lose a fighter or two,” ‘Lakosee admitted. “But then we would know where to find the demons.”
“And they would know we are coming,” Nizat said. “Which means our ground forces would require close air support to prevail. How many more craft would we lose?”
“A few, most likely,” ‘Lakosee said. “But is it not better to lose a few fighters than to allow the demons a chance to capture the Steadfast Strike?”
“Perhaps, had the flotilla not lost so many ships already,” Nizat said. “But the infidels have taken half our fighter complement now. If they take more, we will lack the support craft we need to continue the crusade.”
‘Lakosee glanced away, thinking. “Then it would be unwise to risk a low reconnaissance run along the rest of the route.”
“Perhaps so.” Nizat was pleased to see his steward coming to terms with their situation. When a rogue flotilla ran low on support craft, it could not send for more. “We would be most likely to find the Spartans when they downed our reconnaissance craft. And they would know they’d been found, then prepare a defense requiring us to put more of our forces at risk.”
“So we must find the demons without betraying that we have done so,” ‘Lakosee said. “And we must kill them before they realize they are under attack.”
“That would be ideal.”
“Then why look for them at all?” ‘Lakosee asked. “We know where they are going.”
“You wish to intercept them at the Steadfast Strike itself?”
“It seems the surest way to accomplish our mission,” ‘Lakosee said. “We cannot risk our air support, but the demons have none to risk. So we prepare a defensive position and force them to attack.”
“What if they win?”
“They will.” ‘Lakosee opened his mandibles in predatory delight. “We would set our defenses a safe distance from the Steadfast Strike, then allow a small force of the infidels’ standard infantry to slip through the perimeter and board the vessel . . . before the Spartans.”
“This small force would be the ones to recover the harness and the shield containing the Luminal Beacons?”
“Indeed,” ‘Lakosee said. “Once their assault has been repelled and they have been driven to a safe distance, we allow the demons to break through and board the ship.”
“Then we use the humans’ favorite trick against them, and destroy the Steadfast Strike with the demons aboard?”
“It seems a good way to safeguard such sacred knowledge,” ‘Lakosee said. “No Spartan—especially a dead one—can steal what has already been destroyed.”
“A cunning plan,” Nizat said, truly impressed. “But you assume the standard infantry will be the first to reach the frigate. We can hope to arrange that, but it is folly to believe we can control what the Spartans do. What if they anticipate our plan? Or if we cannot delay them long enough?”
“The Steadfast Strike can still launch,” ‘Lakosee said. “If the demons approach before we are ready, it can simply leave.”
“True enough.”
Nizat looked away, signaling his desire to think. Unless he was willing to sacrifice more fighter craft, there was little he could do to stop the demons before they reached the Steadfast Strike anyway. Better to use his bane’s strength against them, which might blind the demons to their danger, and lure them into ‘Lakosee’s trap.
Nizat clacked his mandibles in satisfaction. “The first stage must look convincing,” he said, turning back to ‘Lakosee. “You will concentrate the great majority of your defenses against the Spartans, as though they are the only enemy you have.”
‘Lakosee’s head rose in surprise. “Me, Fleetmaster?”
“It is your idea, so it will be your . . . command.”
As Nizat spoke, the Quiet Faith’s broad-bodied shipmaster, Qoo ‘Weyodosee, suddenly left his station and rushed forward to the communications console. He tipped his blocky head to one side and listened for a moment, then pivoted to face the rear of the bridge. His stubby mandibles were parted in shock, his eyes round with alarm.
Motioning ‘Lakosee to follow, Nizat went to ‘Weyodosee. “There is trouble?”
‘Weyodosee tipped his head back in confirmation, then turned to the communications adept. “Play the avowal.”
The adept began to tickle the glider switches on his console, and a coldness settled between Nizat’s hearts. An avowal was a formal declaration of intent—usually issued as divine justification just prior to a subject’s imminent execution.
After a breath, a soft and wispy voice spoke gently. “Agony is the consequence of betrayal, and the Fleet of Swift Justice will deliver it.”
Nizat turned immediately toward the tactical hologram at the back of the bridge, where an image of the N’ba planetary system floated above a projection pad surrounded by ten instrument lecterns. At the five lecterns arrayed around the planet’s night side, the readers were busy tapping and sliding their crystal display screens, enhancing the display with the images of Covenant ships—five destroyers and frigates so far, but also a cruiser and an assault carrier. The Fleet of Swift Justice had already arrived . . . and it was not there for the infidels.
‘Weyodosee came to Nizat’s side. “If our flotilla breaks orbit now, it will survive.” He spoke quietly, so the readers would not overhear. “The Fleet of Swift Justice emerged from slipspace on vector to insert into our orbit, but intrusion corvettes are not easy to catch. Most of our ships should escape.”
“If you believe that, you do not understand the Silent Shadow.”
Nizat stepped to the partition rail that separated the tactical planning salon from the rest of the bridge and began to study the human destroyers that had been keeping watch over N’ba since “downing” the Steadfast Strike. The humans had been slipping more vessels into their flotilla as quickly as the vessels could travel here, and now there were eleven destroyers supported by two small cruisers. A force of that size was hardly sufficient to destroy the Fleet of Swift Justice—but it was large enough to make it pay attention.
‘Weyodosee seemed unable to move his gaze away from the arriving fleet. Swift Justice had grown to ten vessels now—five destroyers and three frigates, plus the cruiser and the assault carrier.
“Fleetmaster, we must act soon,” ‘Weyodosee said. “Every second we delay reduces our chance of escape.”
“Being driven before an onrushing enemy like a gortoa to the slaughter is not acting,” Nizat said. “It is reacting—and that places us at the mercy of the Silent Shadow.”
‘Weyodosee’s gaze remained fixed on the Fleet of Swift Justice. The destroyers and frigates were spreading out to screen the two larger ships, and it would not be long before they began to launch reconnaissance patrols to pinpoint the locations of the Flotilla of Unsung Piety’s intrusion corvettes.
Normally.
Nizat studied the tactical holograph a little longer, then pointed at the arriving fleet. “It is not by chance that the Fleet of Swift Justice emerged from slipspace on the side of N’ba opposite the human flotilla.”
“Of course not,” ‘Weyodosee said. “They are using the humans to limit our options and slow our escape.”
“And that is why we must act quickly?” Nizat asked. In his fear, ‘Weyodosee was growing insubordinate, but in a rogue flotilla, no fleetmaster could afford to harshly discipline the commander of his flagship. Persuasion and education were safer options. He glanced toward ‘Lakosee and was glad to see his steward’s eyes narrow in thought. “So they don’t close off all hope of escaping around the far side of the planet?”
“Yes.” ‘Weyodosee spoke the word as though he were talking to an inexperienced hatchling. “If we allow that, they will push us into the humans. We can certainly destroy such a small flotilla, but it will take time—”
“And the Fleet of Swift Justice will arrive to crush us from behind,” ‘Lakosee said. “It will be a classic boot-on-the-stone attack.”
‘Weyodosee clacked his mandibles in agreement. “You see?” His focus remained on Nizat. “Even your steward sees the danger.”
“I suspect he sees the trap as well.” Nizat turned his gaze on ‘Lakosee. “Is that correct?”
“It does seem that the Fleet of Swift Justice has left us with only one option.” ‘Lakosee looked to ‘Weyodosee. “And the fleetmaster has a saying for such situations.”
‘Weyodosee trilled his throat in irritation. “It is a trap?”
“Essentially,” ‘Lakosee said. “But what he says is: ‘When the enemy leaves you one option, take another.’ ”
“Well enough when there is another option,” ‘Weyodosee said. “But the only options I see are either death now or death later, and I prefer later.”
“And abandon our quest?” Nizat looked away in negation. “That is not an option.”
“It is our only hope,” ‘Weyodosee said. “How can we destroy ONI if we are dead?”
“We will not die,” Nizat said. “Not if we take the third option.”
“There is no third option.”
“Of course there is,” Nizat said. “Begin an insertion run.”
‘Weyodosee cocked his head, watching Nizat out of one eye. “Perhaps the fleetmaster has forgotten we are in an intrusion corvette? When we fire our engines to break orbit—”
