Counterweight (30 page)

“Bet they don’t mention
that
in their recruitment
package,” Cal said dryly. “Still, it’s a big city – how long will it take for
us to run out of air?”

“A day.”

“Tell me you’re poking a rib…”

The Krorian shook his head. “Sorry, C’Al. I wish I
was
but there’s no way around the math. This is my specialty, after all.” He
gestured out to the atrium. “Two Billion square cubits of volume, minus
structures and people leaves us with one point four Billion square cubits of
air.  Twenty-three Million
actual
inhabitants using up twelve and a
half Million square cubits per centiday means we have roughly a day and a tenth
before folks start falling down.”

  “Dung eating clones!” Cal swore. “Can we stop it from
up here?”

A shrug. “We could blast the shunt dampers clean off and get
the air moving again but those are more than four hundred levels down from here
and all transit is being blanked.”

It was another security feature of Tsekoh. Mag generators were
mounted throughout the city, allowing security forces to nullify the field
generated by any vehicle by cancelling out the waves produced by their on-board
generators.

In this case, it meant they couldn’t simply seize a vehicle
and fly down to the atmospheric plant.

“And the magisters are waiting to fire on anyone who ignores
the curfew,” Cal added, “so rappelling down the atrium is a death sentence.”

“There are ladders in the shunts themselves,” the Krorian
offered, “but four hundred floors in one day?” He shook his head. “It’s tight
in places and you have to wait on the baffle cycles at the intersections. Even
though the dampers are shut, the baffles will still think they’re cycling the
air supply to different zones.”

“How long does a baffle stay closed?”

“Standard cycle is a centiday, so a hundred uncooperative
baffles would use up all our time. There’s ten per level on each shunt, so I
can expect to wait for forty of them on the way down.”

Cal resisted the urge to curse. “Where’s the dedicated shunt
for the offices?’

The maintenance worker pulled out his job wand and pulled
the two halves apart, deploying a holoscreen between the two sections. He aimed
it at the floor and started walking across the small square in front of the
large doors.

“Right here.” He waited until Cal joined him. The conduit
was clearly visible as a cavity embedded in the floor.

Cal waved him back and pulled out six prospecting charges.
He dropped them in a roughly square pattern and moved over to where the Krorian
stood. Using his tablet, he detonated the charges, the blast quickly overtaken
by the sudden force of the released air.

Dust and small pieces of concrete blew up to the ceiling and
rebounded in all directions.

“No chance I can go down that shaft,” the Krorian shouted
from behind his shielding hands. “Even if you got me
in
there, the flow
would fire me up the shaft and into the offices.”

Cal nodded. “You have charges?”

“No.”

He gave the Krorian his satchel. “Better get moving. Take
somebody with you as a backup.” He nodded at the opening in the floor. “That
won’t buy the city much time but maybe we can shove something down there to
divert more of the air from the offices. Might convince the little clones to
reconsider.”

When he returned to the tether station, a Tauhentan rushed
over.

“C’Al, we just heard from our man in orbital control,” he
advised quietly. “A small fleet has just arrived and they’re about to start
landing mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries?” Cal grinned. “You realize what that means?”

A nod. “The Republic either doesn’t care about this world or
they don’t even know about it.”

“So, if we manage to take the place,” Cal added, “we don’t
have to worry about a Republic legion landing on our doorstep to take it back.”

“But there’s still the mercs up in orbit…”

“We have an old saying where I come from. “The enemy of my
enemy is my friend.”

“But, C’Al, we’re both Tauhentan and I’ve never heard such
foolishness.” He scratched the back of his head. “Sounds a little
short-sighted, if you ask me. We need friends who have more in common than who
our enemies are…”

“Never mind whether you’ve heard it.” Cal was surprised at
how careless he was getting but he really didn’t plan on keeping up the cover
story for much longer. “What if I told you we could convince the Midgaard to
come here and serve as our warlords?”

“Break away from the Republic entirely?”

“I suppose you could put it that way,” Cal raised an
eyebrow, “but I’d describe it as joining the Alliance.” He leaned in a little
closer. “And what world was one of the first to join?”

The young man’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Gods!” He breathed in
surprise. “We could go home!” His gaze lost focus for a moment as the dream
began to take form.

Korlaith finally overcame his surprise and broke into the
conversation. “We’d have to submit to those vicious animals, though!”

“The Midgaard?” Cal’s voice made his surprise obvious. “You
think they want to bother with making laws and patrolling the streets?” He
shook his head firmly. “No, they’d live here, garrison the orbitals and pretty
much leave the rest to
us
. As long as we give them the same tax revenue
that would have gone to the Republic, they’re more than happy to serve as our
military, just like the traditional Oaxian or Tauhentan warlords.”

“Still…” Korlaith grimaced. “It’s a hard bargain to sell.
Most folks hate the company but that doesn’t mean they want to break away from
the Republic.”

“We’re not
in
the republic,” Cal corrected him. “They
called in mercenaries because they’re running this place off the books;
otherwise, there’d be Dactari regulars landing up top.” He waved a hand at the
station gates. “We’d have real cops and due process if this were part of the
Republic, not a pack of thugs with the power of life and death.”

“Maybe the regulars are on their way…” the young Tauhentan
suggested.

“No,” Cal cut him off. “The company was too greedy to
register this place. Asking for troops means asking for questions they can’t
answer. The mercs are their last hope but, if we act quickly, we can hit them
before they get settled up there.”

“How do we even get the Alliance to come here?” Korlaith
demanded.

“Let me handle that,” Cal replied confidently. They were
already en-route, of course, but he had a feeling uncertainty might make them more
welcome. He looked at the young Tauhentan. “Get back to the comms station and
keep in touch with our man topside.”

He turned back to Korlaith. “Take a runner with you and
check on our team in the air shunt. Send him whenever there’s an update and we’ll
send one back with whatever news we have here.”

The communications systems had been shut down by the
company, so they had to rely on fast feet to keep everybody coordinated.

Korlaith stared back at him for a long time. Finally he
looked away, toward the door. “You
can
get them to come, can’t you?” It
wasn’t exactly stated as a question.

Cal nodded. “All we need to do is hold out for a few days
but, first, our friends in the shaft need to get the air moving again.”

Or the Alliance would be taking over a dead city.

Ten-minute jump from target

“
A
ll
vessels accounted for,” the signals officer announced, “and all confirm their
drives are spooled up for combat insertion.”

“Very well, have their captains stand by for council.”
Freya’s eyes took on that faraway look as she turned her implant on and sought
out Cal’s proximity beacon. 

“You there, Rick?” Her voice appeared in his mind. He was
less disturbed this time, though whether it was due to their relationship or
simply that he could see the faint movement of her jaw muscles in concert with
the voice, he couldn’t say.

“I hear you,” he replied. “You have Cal?”

“Hey, Gambler,” Cal answered cheerfully. “Good thing I got
you out of here when I did. I had no idea you were in such a rush to get married!”

Rick darted a look at his wife but she was staring absently
at a projection of their target world. “How is everything going down there?” he
asked.

“We have mercenaries landing on the station, the top echelon
of the company is dead, the magisters are shooting people on sight and we have
less than half a day of air left. Pretty standard, really. When can we expect
the cavalry to show up?”

Freya cut back in. “We’re less than a centi-day out. We need
to get the latest from you before we jump off.”

“Roger that. Latest data from orbital control should be in
your buffer right now. The mercenary ships haven’t moved since they got here,
so they should still be in place when you arrive.”

“Thanks, Cal.” Freya paused. “Just so we’re clear – what’s
your play, here?”

“I’m not looking for extraction. I’m going to stay down here
and help these folks. This world is almost certainly unknown to official
Dactari channels.” A pause. “Freya, what’s
your
play?”

“I brought ten ships, Cal. I’m taking the planet. How will
that be received by the general population?”

“If you bring some warriors down here to fight by their
side,” he offered, “and then let them run their own affairs, many will see you
as a liberator. Some will object but we can win them over if we can improve
their lives quickly enough.”

The holo image of Chaco Benthic suddenly populated with
projected ships. A standard Dactari troopship sat above the counterweight
station, surrounded by a loose formation of seven smaller ships – corvettes and
cruisers.

“Cal, we have the data,” Freya advised. “We’ll keep you
linked so you can listen in on the council.” She turned to the signals officer
and gave him a curt nod.

The other nine captains appeared in holographic form around
the newly updated projection.

“Can you see me?” Barry asked, looking around like a
tourist. This was his first experience with the hastily installed Midgaard
technology. He found Rick and grinned reflexively.

“We can see you just fine,
Guadalcanal
,” Rick assured
him.

“All right, lads,” Freya began, “you can see what we’re
expecting to find at target and you know what we’re bringing along.”

She looked at the assembled faces. “Three of their ships are
missing because Rick, here, managed to clamp some knockouts onto them at their
rendezvous point.” She reached out to put her thumbs and forefingers together
and then dragged them apart, enlarging the view of the enemy fleet. Four of
them exhibited plasma scoring.

“The troopship had one of the knockouts and she seems to have
lost a few decks to decompression but her survival isn’t necessarily a bad
thing.” She frowned at the image.

The troopship had taken position near the counterweight
station and slightly toward the equator. It looked like a second counterweight,
outlined against the moon.

“Seeing as our only use for such a ship,” one of the
captains interjected, “is for target practice, should I assume we’re thinking
about picking their pockets?”

Freya nodded, still looking at the squarish vessel.

The captain reached out a hand, placing his fist to the
front of the troopship.  “A small carrier group, appearing here, will
focus their attention very nicely.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, “and our Mark IIIs will drop out
behind the moon.” She held a fist behind the pocked satellite. “Once the
Guadalcanal
destroys the troopship, we pitch in behind the enemy, come alongside the first
three targets and board them.”

“Just so I’m clear,” Barry cut in. “Our task is the
destruction of that troopship?”

Freya looked at his face for several heartbeats. “Will that
be a problem, Captain Fletcher?”

Barry considered for a moment. “No, ma’am.” A shrug.
“They’re mercenaries who’ll just turn to raiding civilians if they get away
from the fight and, more to the point, they’re mercenaries with heavy rail
guns. I don’t like the idea of lollygagging around in front of those weapons
for any longer than I have to.”

He nodded. “We’ll charge our mains while we shift over to
target. Soon as the drop wash dies out, we’ll put four slugs into them.”

“That should catch their attention,” she replied dryly.

“Maybe he should try to establish contact with them,” Cal
suggested through the link, “after blasting the troopship.”

“That might be worth trying,” Rick answered out loud,
looking over to see Freya nodding her agreement. He turned back to Barry. “Kill
their flagship, then hail them – identify yourself as an Alliance carrier group
responding to a distress call.”

“Which we sort of
are
,” Barry pointed out.

“The old ‘shoot first and ask questions later’ trick”, another
captain volunteered. “Often works well when you want to buy time against poorly
led enemies.”

Rick knew the two cultures had melded but it was still
strange to hear Human phrases on a Midgaard command deck.

“Anyone have a better plan?” Freya looked around the small
group, seeing nothing but enthusiastic support, and no wonder. The nine
captains were the genesis of the couple’s elevated status. Anything that
further cemented her position would also lend security to
their
primacy
under Freya and Rick.

They were about to attempt to take seven enemy ships. That
meant seven new captains who fell below them in seniority. Seven of the
original  captains were also being given the chance to advance a protégé.
They would be selecting the prizemasters for the boarding missions, giving
those seven warriors a shot at becoming captains.

It reflected very well for a couple who’d only been haulds
for a matter of hours. Independent captains from failed houses might even flock
to their banner.