Way of life, Arc 7 of "Gone with the Sun"
Chapter 94 Nemesis to Archangel
The tip of the spear
Shepard stood in the cockpit of Normandy while EDI and Joker handled the frigate.
"Man it feels sweet to handle something a bit handier than a dreadnought."
EDI grinned at her best friend forever.
They had backed away from the loading platform next to the penultimate relay, to make room for the 250,000 tonne freighter Zhukov – Mikhailovich was pleased to call it a troopship – arriving out of FTL eight thousand kilometres from the rogue planet.
EDI's mobile glanced back and caught his eye: "Penny for your thoughts, Captain?"
"Hm. A penny, these days, is a credit chit for just one credit – and at that, was worth a lot more than a traditional penny, which is normally footnoted in modern editions of old books as a 'centicredit'. So I suppose it's worth my while answering."
Joker barked a quick laugh. EDI gave him a stern look, and said:
"That's a long way from a joke, Captain."
"You mean 'for' a joke."
"I know what I said."
Joker laughed again. "She's improving, Captain. So, can us pilots know where we're going now? Once Zhukov offloads its conscripts?"
"You sound a bit whiny, Joker. You've got the co-ordinates. Sure you want to know what's there? This could be a hairy delivery. We're having to make it up as we go along, remember. Even this is a bit of a reconnaissance mission. The last one, I hope."
There were two other frigates present, North Cape and Peacemaker. Garrus, listening in on TBS, commented:
"Come on, Shepard, the Primarch's given me the plan and I've told Pilot Nyrek."
Shepard relented: "I guess at this point you need to know. To begin with, we're not starting side-chains from N-18." Normandy had come from Earth up the N-chain, lastly through N-16, which was the jumping-off point to the engagement zone, and had no less than six side-chains, N-16a through N-16f, delivering eezo and fab'd components for the last push.
"But there's hints of eezo in the absorption spectrum all around," remarked EDI.
"I know, interesting traces. But N-18's going to be just a few light-years from what we think is the Nest."
"Too risky? We have to sneak up shielded by the dust cloud?"
"Going sideways is an unnecessary risk, EDI."
Trouble at t'mill
Pyotr Mikhailovich had to attend an Alliance conference at Luna City on the way back from the cabin. His mood was already poor; the new officer in charge, Bulanov, was efficient but did not yet have the screws well in hand which meant finding someone who scared them as much as Baba Yaga had.
This was proving unexpectedly difficult.
His mood wasn't any better after stranding Brooks (she wasn't Rasa anymore) back at Limbo following her intolerable outburst. Somehow he had expected a feeling of grim satisfaction, one more enemy of the Rodina crushed.
Unfortunately, she hadn't seemed crushed ("Good bye, Admiral. It was an honor and a privilege working with you." Then she'd walked with firm step through processing.)
That strangely unsatisfactory outcome was getting on his nerves, for now he had no suitable aide-de-camp for insights into negotiations and morale. Maria had been transferred back from North Cape but she had yet to arrive.
And now he had to cope with Coats asking awkward questions about what he'd done with certain venal Arcturus contractors. Damn.
"So. Messrs. David and Loewenstein are in the Luna City brig. Not Limbo."
"Yes, precisely."
"Let them out on bond for good behaviour."
"For Christ's sake, Coats, David under-specified the titanium skin for the defence torus!"
"But as-built, they were to spec. Loewenstein, likewise. Peter, he was just trying to get the contract. He took the cost difference himself–"
"It's the principle. If he cheated on that, what else?"
"We will just have to be vigilant. Make their fines heavy, but let them out. The critical path is already out two days, we need them and their company's expertise. Ah, your secretary is back." And Coats rose, took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Lovely to see you my dear, and I am so glad Bryson can't see this scene."
Pyotr was pleased too, for he'd grown accustomed to Maria's face. But this was a much cooler reception than normal. Maria dimpled very briefly at Coats, just one spark, and sat at table, the perfect composed amanuensis. Mikhailovich glanced at her sharply, but she exuded professional efficiency. Just, not a glimmer of the accustomed smile for her boss. Coats too was puzzled, looking back and forth between them. Mikhailovich sighed: "Fine. A heavy fine, but on good behaviour. Are we done?"
"Thank you. Not quite. A delicate matter seems to have come up. Maria, could you leave us please?"
"Of course, Rear-Admiral Coats." And she departed, with just a hint of flounce.
Waypoints
The staff planners had produced a set-piece engagement plan of some complexity. Shepard and Vakarian had mixed feelings about that – No plan survives contact – but took comfort from the planners' obvious desire to avoid contact if they possibly could.
Garrus spoke up again: "So what's in the actual orders?"
"You can open yours now. Release code preved-medved, that's P-R-E-V-E-D-hyphen-M-E-D-V-E-D. Garrus, I apologize for the russocentric code."
"Riiight… someone's been this way before. Current station to Archangel, waypoints. Waypoint one, N-17 on Nemesis, that's right here. Tick that one off."
"Wait, Shepard. Where is Archangel? I have no reference."
"Right, sorry EDI. Look, Archangel is ops name for that rogue planetoid about the size of Titan, which Normandy found in the last hairy reconnaissance within the fluff."
"Funny sort of name," said Joker.
"Ashley found it, really," noted EDI. "She told me to look for a magnetosphere bow shock in the fluff. There was something, although weak. All I had to do was follow the admittedly rather weak shock wave to its apex…"
"… and you tripped over the mini-planet. Ash is thinking like N7s, sir."
"Spirits aid us, then. Waypoint two, Normandy to rendez-vous with Kilimanjaro to pick up N-18. You've done that bit."
"Right. You can pilot the Normandy to Archangel, Joker, but that's why we had to rendez-vous with Kilimanjaro – to disassemble N-18 and pack it in the hold."
"Not that I'm complaining, but why can't Kilimanjaro just come with us to Archangel?"
"We're stealth, the dreadnought isn't. Too close to the Nest. May I continue?"
"Oh. Right. Sorry, Garrus, what's next?"
"Waypoint three, Rendez-vous with Zhukov, Of course, Zhukov's the troop transport. Done that too. Launch two iron bubbles stored at Waypoint four, ETA five hours after we go. Start mission clock. Zhukov to drop troops at Archangel."
"We're waiting for the go on that. We will be on a tight schedule once they start. The mass of bubble and especially the solid impactors is huge, even compared to a dreadnought. The usual FTL transit through warp space is going to take orders of magnitude longer than a ship – like, four weeks. Got that?
"Yessir. Meet two iron asteroid weapons, start slow FTL bubbles five hours from now aye. Bubble ETA at black hole, four weeks, aye. Troopship to follow behind?"
"That's it. Four weeks is enough time to do another evacuation run. I should mention that last month Mikhailovich also started a solid asteroid impactor with a VI on its way by FTL, ten times the mass but it should get there first, to kick things off. Garrus?"
"Frigates to run ahead of bubbles, directly to waypoint five, Archangel, six parsecs into the dust cloud. Almost out the other side, in fact."
"But not actually visible from the black hole. We hope."
"Waypoint six, North Cape picks up pioneer detachment from pylon construction site at Archangel."
"Exactly. Eva, Nicolaev, that's your responsibility. When we get to Archangel, pick up the pioneers after they unpack the relay from Normandy, and set it on the pylon."
"The pylon should be finished by now," – Czernykh, over in North Cape.
Eva's voice came over TBS: "About that name. On North Cape the crew first began calling the N-18 planetoid, "Archangel" - I think, Boris' idea originally."
"Confound it, here was I thinking recognition at last."
"Keep a lid on it, Garrus. Unless you want all those mercs on your tail again."
Czernykh on North Cape interjected again: "Eva might not be aware Archangelsk is a port from which the Russian Navy patrolled the Arctic, Shepard. That might have a bearing on the name Boris gave it."
"Good name. Orders only say where to look for it, and what to do. Laying N-18 on the planetoid, I mean. Garrus, anything else?"
"Archangel's just before the far end of the cold gas cloud blocking our view of the Nest, so it's hidden," noted Garrus. "A good forward base, if we can use it."
"In about four weeks, when the solid impactor hits whatever it finds, there will be more Chinese and Indian conscripts there. It's more than a forward base, it's a fort."
"But Shepard, our planetoid in the fluff is only about a tenth the diameter of the planet below us, which Boris Mikhailovich called Nemesis for some reason. What does it need the troops for?"
"Partly, to guard the relay. Otherwise, they're for in case. The Chinese and Russians like to swarm husk armies with even bigger human armies. Since recovering from the Red Flash, the Chinese have wanted their troops back, because they lost about nine out of ten ethnic Han; Indians not much less. But Hackett said too hard, and Mikhailovich agreed. Besides, we might need them, the Indian dawans too."
Czernykh over in North Cape seemed more inclined to listen than chat, but his new AI, Eva Coré, had no such inhibitions about chatting with EDI:
"Archangel's not a huge rocky planet, EDI, but it's bigger than Mercury. Easily big enough for the N-18 garrison. And Hackett couldn't return them in time."
"I see that. We could ferry fifty million troops back with a hundred thousand minifreighter trips, but even putting in another relay and running them at realistic speeds, that would take about half a year."
"Or more. Better to put them back in cold sleep and return them home by troopship. It will take another three years, but they'd get home."
– which Shepard found interesting, because he'd expected the Russian commander to tell his AI to shut up unless spoken to. Funny to see a Russian ship's genius being granted some latitude. Did it have something to do with the "Billy" episode? Ensign Eva having accompanied Admiral Pyotr Mikhailovich to social functions? Or…
"Eva, has Jana loosened your training shackles at all, yet?"
"Yes, Captain, a little. Just before Overlord left. 'Growing up,' she calls it."
EDI perked up. "That took me several years, and several traumas…"
"Heh. Like me dropping your shackles abruptly, so you could save the ship."
"The bad things started with Shepard on my case, at Luna," noted EDI. Joker sniggered. Eva overheard via TBS and sympathized with EDI:
"I'm in no rush. I have no desire to be hunted either… Again."
"We're all hunters and hunted. Boss Boris brought me out of cold sleep when we had to place N-16," observed Joker, "and told me Nemesis was an old name for a hypothetical death star…"
"Figures," muttered Shepard.
"… which turned out not to exist…"
"… Never mind, Joker. I guess now it does exist. Nemesis then. For Reapers, I trust."
Strife on the strand
"Alright, give."
"Coats, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Coats stared, then nodded slowly. "Let's suppose I believe you, for a moment. Why is Maria suddenly switched off?"
"She's only just walked in from duty on North Cape. I've no idea what transpired."
"Peter, I don't think this is a North Cape issue. She has frozen you out. Excluded you from her universe. To you she's a perfect synthetic VI. Surely you noticed? Now why?"
Mikhailovich gaped, seeing the scene as others saw it. Of course. Damn!
"Son of a bitch! She's on strike!"
"Eh?"
"Brooks had to be disciplined. I revoked her parole – she's back in Limbo. But how in Christ's name did Maria know?" Coats burst out laughing, and actually fell out of his chair. "That is not helping!" Still giggling, Coats picked himself up and sat at table.
"People tell her things, surely you noticed? Now, what was Brooks' sin this time?"
"A junior aide is not permitted to second-guess their superior officer."
"Say what? That's funny– it's exactly the function I've witnessed Maria perform."
"Rasa, I mean Brooks, made a comment about Federation international policy which was wholly unacceptable, out of line, and…"
"Let's hear it for the word offensive. She burst your bubble, right?"
"Brooks compared me, us, to the yahg!"
"Well actually there is sort of a resembl–"
"Don't say it. Worse, she compared the motherland to the Yahg!"
"Heh. And your own circumspection amazes you. Why didn't you have her shot?" This stopped Mikhailovich cold. He thought about it a few seconds, then:
"Actually – I don't know. It never occurred to me. It should have." Mikhailovich continued smoldering a moment, then went on the offensive: "And why is this so funny? You think Russia resembles the Yahg?"
"Of course it does. Ask anyone. The Chinese, say." Mikhailovich slammed a meaty fist on the table. "Temper there," said Coats in an arch received-pronunciation voice.
"This is intolerable."
"Look old friend, and whether you like it or not I am a friend; we have been through much together. Delivering the missile targeting VI turned my hair grey, however briefly. But. Your neighbours fully expect you, or your country, to betray them at some point in the future."
"That is still not a very friendly thing to say."
"If you do not know this, Rasa – I'm sorry, Brooks – was quite right to tell you. Peter, some of us love you and even your country despite everything. That has nothing to do with your great Russian souls, hah, nor casual criminality, nor friendship. But a world where Russia is cold and dead would not be pleasant to live in. Of course, that won't prevent us fighting you to the death, probably of both of us, when the time comes."
"Coats! How dare you!"
"I am who I am. You are who you are – a badly behaved cousin; family nonetheless. You would still shaft us in a heartbeat, if you thought you could get away with it."
This was so transparently true Mikhailovich stopped, having no argument against it.
"Listen. Your argument is not with me. Just why has Maria begun working to rule?"
"Is that what you call it?"
"Yes. I know you don't have strikes in Russia. We have many, and a correspondingly large vocabulary for them. 'Working to rule' is a fair description."
"As to why, I don't know exactly. I will demand an answer." At this, James Coats face-palmed:
"Peter, Peter, Peter. That is the worst possible thing you could do. When she refuses to even acknowledge the issue, what do you say to someone like Maria?"
"I will have her–" Somehow an image of Maria before a firing squad, still saying nothing, a mask of calm, sprung to mind. Mikhailovich stopped, heart skipping a beat.
"Say it. Go on, I dare you. My omnitool recorder is running."
"Damn you, Coats. Turn it off! Any useful suggestions?"
Coats thought hard for a minute. "Does Maria ever shade the truth for your ears?"
"Never. I've told her if she does that, I'll send her home. Well, back to the guards."
"Ha! So now she knows that if she shades the truth, she's punished. And with Brooks' example, she knows if she doesn't shade the truth, she's punished even more. That's a classic double bind. I bet the consequences for people like Brooks, Maria or Chambers are why there's so few of them left. Only the ones no-one can bear to–"
"James, you're obviously better at this than me. What else can I do?"
Coats propped his shoes on the table and sat back, thinking, for nearly two minutes. To a russian, Mikhailovich would have growled. But he waited. Eventually:
"Promote Maria. She needs to be an officer for this. Send her to Limbo to apologize to Brooks on your behalf. Your offence is not quite mortal."
"I'm not apologizing to that woman!"
"Call it negotiation, then. They will know what it really means. So will you. While you're at it, second Brooks to the warder of the cabin, dammit. To put the screws on notice."
Nemesis
"–Well hey, it's the place they launch you from, Captain," remarked Joker; Shepard grimaced. "Aaand, one of the fingers on the button will be Russian. That's serious doom. Death Planet, if not Death Star."
Shepard's wry expression tightened. EDI tried changing the subject:
"Captain, are we delayed by thawing out of the fighting men on the troopships?"
"The movement orders just say 'wait', EDI. I guess we don't need to know."
"Boris says no-one knew where Zhukov and Massena were till they turned up," contributed Eva. "Troopships can't keep up with dreadnoughts so the fleet has to slow down for them. It'll take them all of the four weeks to set up prefab accommodation and dig bunkers."
"I wondered what the prefab cities were for. So, Nemesis is a troop base too?
"It will be, boss. By the time Normandy comes back from Earth with Overlord and Pegasus. That's four weeks away."
"Hm. Nemesis might deserve its name by then. Pegasus will be bringing Javik back from hatching prothean clones back on Arcturus; that's more Reaper doom."
"Any prothean babies, yet?"
"No, just forced-growth clones of the female Traynor and company found on Cronos. They're just about done, Javik says."
"Like the one Cerberus made of you, Captain?"
"Not remotely, Joker. Female and acephalic. But they can bear actual proper Prothean clones - a year from now. Meanwhile, Javik's starting the next batch of acephalic clones."
"Wow. An honest to god baby factory, even so."
"Limited production run only, not more than seven hundred genetically distinct Protheans. Just enough to recover the species, but they won't be out of the bottleneck for many many generations."
The haptic display in front of Joker just then blinked a green hexagon on the movement orders.
"Captain, we are go for Archangel."
Next chapter: #95, "Bubbles"
Tuesday, August 24, 2015
