Owner 03 - Jupiter War (2 page)

The dust having rolled away, the machine was now clearly visible. On seeing its similarity to an early rocket-propelled precursor of vertical take-off jets she had christened it a ‘flying bedstead’ – and now felt no need to question that label. On the dusty rust-coloured ground rested a cube-shaped framework from which projected steering thrusters, one pointing towards Var and two pointing left and right, with presumably a fourth projecting from the other side. Within it, a single acceleration chair faced up towards the sky, with hardware from the cockpit of a space plane installed in front of it. Behind the chair, two cylindrical fuel tanks had been mounted horizontally, and beneath them the main engine pointed towards the ground.

‘I would have said “impossible to fly” had I not seen you flying it,’ she rasped.

‘The word “impossible” has always been given a severe battering throughout human history, and recently has been dealt a near fatal blow,’ he reminded her.

She felt slightly demeaned by his dismissive attitude, and wished she hadn’t used the word ‘impossible’ but instead enquired about the technicalities of flying such a machine. His remark had referred to this Rhine drive he had used to bring Argus Station here. Arrogant of him, she felt, but supposed it did seem pointless discussing the difficulties of flying the contraption that stood before her when he’d recently totally shafted conventional physics. She studied him and he seemed blank to her; not quite as human as the brother she had once known, but was she misremembering? Perhaps it was the effect of those . . . eyes, and the knowledge of everything he had managed to achieve?

‘What happened to you, Alan?’ she asked, trying hard to connect.

‘I may retain that name, but little else of the brother you knew.’ He glanced up the valley, seemingly impatient with her. ‘We’ll talk while we walk.’

Swallowing a snappy reaction, she waved a hand towards his vehicle. ‘Can’t this thing get us back to Argus?’

‘No.’ He turned and headed back towards it with the long gliding steps necessary here. ‘An Earth-format space plane would have fallen like a brick in Martian atmosphere. I had to strip one down to achieve the correct weight-to-thrust ratio, and physically it could not include any more fuel than this used to get me down here.’ He reached up beside the seat and detached a backpack, pulled it down and slung it over one shoulder, and turned back to her.

‘So we have to go to Antares Base?’ she said.

He nodded. ‘We have to get your Mars-format space plane flying again.’

‘We don’t have any fuel for that either.’

‘Not a problem as, right now, my robots are constructing a drop canister to get some down to us.’ He paused reflectively. ‘It should come down, twenty hours hence, within just a few kilometres of the base.’

‘But we do have the additional problem that I am no longer in charge,’ she replied. ‘Rhone is probably now in control of Antares Base, and its weapons.’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Something to be dealt with in due course.’

He’d stolen a space station and all but destroyed the Committee, so perhaps had some reason for self-confidence, but she found his arrogance nevertheless distasteful. No matter what he had done, a single bullet could still kill him. He turned jerkily and began heading away, kicking up small clouds of dust. Var hesitated, not much in love with the idea of tagging along behind, of being in second place, then reluctantly acknowledged to herself that she was alive only because of him and she hurried to catch up, her legs leaden and a pain nagging in her chest from what was probably a cracked rib.

‘Where are you heading?’ she asked.

‘There’s a cave system leading from Coprates Chasma to that cave you were moving your base to. That will get us close without being seen.’

She had considered going that route herself, but just hadn’t possessed a sufficient air supply. Noting the weight of the pack he carried, she felt sure he must have brought extra oxygen bottles along. Yes, of course he’d brought extra; of course he would never make a stupid mistake like forgetting to bring enough air.

‘So, tell me, Alan,’ she said, moving up alongside him, ‘how come you’re here now?’ It was merely a conversational gambit, and he accepted it as such.

‘You could say,’ he began, ‘that my birth into this incarnation was from a plastic crate on the conveyor of the Calais trash incinerator . . .’

Throughout the Martian afternoon they trudged on up Coprates Chasma, with rouge dust hanging in the air over their trail while Saul, in terse and perfectly correct sentences, told her what had happened to him and what he had been doing over the last few years. Var was appalled. Her brother had always appeared pragmatic and mostly emotionless, yet there had never been any indication that he could also be so murderous. But, then, this person beside her was not quite the brother she had known and, in truth, she had previously never had any idea that she herself could become such a ruthless killer. Perhaps they shared the same genetic trait.

Their walk brought them to a triangular cave piercing a steep cliff and, as they scrambled over fallen rubble to reach it, Var realized that Alan seemed just as exhausted as she felt. But he finished his monologue.

‘In a state comparable to unconsciousness, I had calculated that what we now call the Rhine drive was our only hope.’ He shrugged. ‘I was arrogant and I was wrong because Galahad’s warship, the
Scourge
, still managed to intercept us.’

Var felt slightly surprised at this admission of error.

He halted and turned to look at her. ‘Her troops boarded Argus and a lot of people died. We came close to losing and it was only by my boarding the
Scourge
and penetrating its computer system that we managed to prevail.’

‘So what did you do?’ Var asked.

‘I penetrated their ID implants and activated the biochips – killing them all with the Scour virus lying latent within them.’ He faced forwards and moved on. ‘We got the drive running again after that and hit the
Scourge
, which had retreated, with our drive bubble. That ship is back on course for Earth, and now doubtless full of corpses.’ He paused contemplatively as they walked, then added, ‘In reality the only person the Rhine drive actually saved was you.’

Var felt a surge of resentment at that, then shook it off as she contemplated all he had told her. So that was it: end of that chapter and turn over the page. He had summarized some of the most catastrophic events the human race had ever faced, also events that had opened out vast horizons; all had, as their root cause, himself. She found that somehow . . . unfair.

‘So what now?’ she asked, as they reached the cave mouth.

‘You always wanted to build spaceships, Var – that is one memory I retain,’ he replied. ‘Give me your opinion of Argus Station, in that respect.’

She shivered and, despite her weariness, felt a sudden excitement. ‘It was a stupid design.’ Yes, it was, but she couldn’t help feeling as if she was about to deliver a proposal to some Committee technology-assessment group.

‘How so?’ he enquired, flicking on his suit light to punch a beam into the dusty dark ahead.

‘The initial aim was to build a ring station that could be spun up for centrifugal gravity. They first put in the structural supports and then began building the ring, and only realized halfway through that they had positioned it over the Traveller engine, so wouldn’t be able to complete it if they intended to use that engine again – which they did. Then, instead of moving the engine so that it pointed either up or down in relation to the ring’s axis, they decided to turn the ring supports into the spindles for cylinder worlds, then went on to build the arcoplexes. It was a government hash from the start.’

‘Very true,’ Saul agreed.

‘We’ll have to move it,’ Var opined.

‘The engine or the station rim?’ he asked.

‘The Traveller engine, effectively, since we really need to get that asteroid out of there, cut it up and turn it into something useful.’

‘So you propose a ring-shaped spacecraft with the engine jutting below?’

‘I propose no such thing.’

He wasn’t walking into the cave, just leaning a hand against the wall of stone as he waited to hear what she had to say. In just a short exchange, this conversation had moved on from apparently idle speculation. But she felt sudden misgivings. After all he had done, why would he need her expertise? Was he just offering a sop to her pride? No, she couldn’t allow that thought to take hold: she could be just as good as him, just as successful. She closed her eyes for a second to try and remember the schematics of the Argus Station, and then consider what could be done with it.

‘The Alcubierre warp,’ she said, her eyes snapping open, ‘what is its size and shape?’

‘It
presently
generates at a diameter of seven kilometres – a kilometre from the station rim all round. It is oblate, with an axial thickness of four kilometres, though with half-kilometre indents at the poles.’

‘I notice your emphasis on “presently”,’ remarked Var.

Saul nodded. ‘Without the Argus asteroid at the centre of the station, the warp would be spherical.’

‘So that changes the kind of ship you could build,’ said Var. ‘If you intend to retain the drive you already have.’

‘True,’ Saul agreed. ‘What design of ship do you propose?’

‘They were a little two-dimensional in their thinking when they built the station. If the ship itself was spherical, you could build in greater structural integrity, maybe even position new arcoplexes inside it and move the Traveller engine round and then out along one axis – that is, if you feel you need to retain that engine.’

‘With the Rhine drive, we essentially fly blind,’ he observed non-committal.

She couldn’t help but feel he had been coaxing her to her next words. ‘You’ve managed to create a warp drive – something long considered impossible in conventional physics circles – so what about Mach-effect propulsion?’

‘I have been considering it,’ he acknowledged. ‘As with the Rhine drive, it may be that we already have a large portion of the necessary hardware in place simply with the EM field equipment.’

‘I see.’

‘So, what would you do first?’

‘You’ll need a lot of construction robots, and a lot more materials than you can obtain from the Argus asteroid. Robots first, then start building the skeleton of the sphere—’

He abruptly stepped away and gazed up at the sky.

‘Brigitta and Angela,’ he said, ‘I have sent instructions to the system which concern you. When you’ve finished clearing that mess in there, I want Robotics operating at full production. I’ve also instructed Le Roque to give you everything you need.’ He paused for a second, listening to a response, before continuing. ‘Yes, he’s having the smelting plants extended.’ He then turned to Var. ‘It begins,’ he explained. ‘Shall we?’ He gestured into the cave ahead then led the way in.

Of course, once they got deep inside the cave he would be out of contact with the computer systems of Argus Station. He’d set things in motion just then, which seemed fast for someone used to the bureaucratic delays and screw-ups usual in her previous employers. It was also exhilarating, but for the feeling that she was somehow being shifted into place like some game-piece.

Argus

Hannah gazed at the swirling debris spreading out from the ringside bearing installation of Arcoplex Two, noting the flare of welders throughout the station amid constant robot and human activity.

‘Madness,’ she exclaimed in exasperation. ‘He’s risking our lives to save a sister he doesn’t even remember.’

Even as she finished this outburst she felt mean and selfish and began to question her motivation. He wasn’t risking their lives because they could survive without him. With the Rhine drive, they could now avoid anything Earth threw at them, and they probably also possessed enough expertise to repair the station and return it to self-sufficiency. Materials and energy wouldn’t be a problem: the former could be gathered within the Asteroid Belt, or elsewhere in the solar system; while for the latter they could fly close to the sun, use their mirrors and solar arrays, and be away again before Galahad could send anything after them.

So why am I angry?
Hannah wondered.

It was because she loved Saul and didn’t want him to die. It was because, without him now, she would feel alone. No. That didn’t really work. If she was truthful she had to admit she did not love him. She had once had an infatuation for the man he had previously been, when both man and infatuation had been human things. But loving the Alan Saul who rescued her from Inspectorate HQ London had seemed more akin to loving some especially efficient weapons system. And now he existed in an area far outside cosy one-on-one human relationships, having risen to the position of godhead or
Owner
, which was the title he had assumed out of contempt for all other titles, or perhaps arrogance. So what was bothering her?

Possessiveness.

Somehow he belonged to her, and she realized that this concern of his for his sister – his risking
his
life for this Var Delex, by flying that contraption of his to the surface of Mars, alone – was the source of her pique. She was jealous, and knowing that only annoyed her further. And, by Le Roque’s silence over radio, she guessed her reaction had made him uncomfortable. He was embarrassed for her.

Hannah swung round to watch an ant-like construction robot emerging from one of the empty rooms inside the installation. It was clutching a human corpse in its big two-fingered forelimb. The corpse wore a grey vacuum combat suit painted with the symbol of the rising sun on the chest and back. This was not one of the
Scourge
assault troops Saul had killed with the Scour, for the head was missing and misty vapour trickled from numerous bullet holes. The corpse was off on its journey to be placed first in the hopper of a big robot normally used to carry construction materials, then conveyed, once that robot had a full load, to the overflowing rim mortuary. It struck Hannah that this task must be now becoming quite familiar to the robots here.