“The technical details,” Wilson said. “How did they do it? That’s what’s important if we are to formulate a coherent response strategy.”
“It’ll be five days at the earliest before the ships get back in communications range,” Nigel said.
“If there are any ships remaining,” Dimitri said.
“Enough from you,” Rafael told him hotly.
Wilson held a hand up to his fellow admiral. “I know this is difficult—those were our friends and colleagues out there—but we have to be realistic.”
“We cannot afford five days,” Dimitri said. “Madam President, it is imperative that we arm our remaining starships with the Seattle Project quantumbuster weapons. The Prime aliens retain the ability to launch an immediate strike at us. They now have no reason to delay.”
“Yes,” Doi said. “I’ve seen your earlier recommendations. Admiral Kime?”
“Madam President.”
“We will convene a full War Cabinet by ultra-secure link in thirty minutes. Please be ready to present your plans for using the Seattle quantumbusters in defense of the Commonwealth, and any alternatives.”
“Very well, Madam President.”
“Do we release the failure of our strike against Hell’s Gateway to the media?” Justine asked.
“No,” Patricia said immediately. “We don’t know what happened. People will fear the worst, and we won’t be able to offer any details to reassure them.”
“The news shows are expecting some kind of comment.”
“Tough. We simply say we are unsure of the outcome, and we’re waiting for the starships to return.”
“They’ll know something’s wrong,” Justine said. “If the strike had worked we’d be shouting it as hard as we could.”
“We have five days until we have to admit anything is wrong,” Patricia said. “That’s enough time for me to prepare the groundwork. This had got to be handled perfectly if we’re to prevent panic.”
Wilson couldn’t bring himself to look at Oscar as everyone except Rafael and Justine left the office. Dimitri had argued that the Primes would work out a counter to the Douvoir missiles because they already knew humans were capable of such an application. What if they were told, given exact details? I knew we’d been compromised, and I did nothing. All for fear of looking foolish.
“Just so both of you know,” he told Rafael and Justine, “I’m going to recommend we deploy the quantumbusters as Dimitri suggested.” And pray we maintained some kind of integrity with their development.
“That little shit,” Rafael grunted.
“He’s always been right,” Wilson said. “And he’s only doing his job. Damnit, if we’d listened to him and equipped the starships with quantumbusters to attack Hell’s Gateway we might not be in this position.”
“You can’t play what if, not at this level,” Rafael said. “We have to concentrate on the immediate threat.”
“There wouldn’t be an immediate threat if we’d used the quantumbusters.”
“We don’t even know that,” Rafael said. “Not for certain.”
“It wasn’t the technology which let us down, we suffered a failure of will. We’re too civilized to push the genocide button.”
“I’m glad,” Justine said. “That reluctance to exterminate any creature that might be a difficult problem defines us as a species. We don’t operate at their level. That’s got to be worth something.”
“Not when you’re dead, it isn’t,” Wilson snapped angrily. He knew that he was actually scared and trying to cover, which in itself was pathetic. But the failure to eliminate Hell’s Gateway was profoundly shocking; and the implications even worse. Dimitri was right, they now had to contemplate the unthinkable.
“Do you think Doi will authorize their use?” Justine said.
“Sheldon will,” Rafael said. “He’s a realist. And I know the Halgarth Dynasty will support him, as will most of the others. Nobody was expecting today’s attack to fail so completely. We’re all still reeling from that; but the implication will sink in soon enough, and not just with us.” He shook his head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Dimitri and his nerd think tank were right. We weren’t hardheaded enough; we didn’t want to recognize what we’re actually facing, it’s too frightening.”
Wilson nearly told him about the treachery on board the Second Chance, the existence of the Starflyer. But he retained enough of his political instinct to hold back. Coward, he taunted himself; but he needed Rafael’s whole-hearted support over the next few days; they simply had to work together. The human race couldn’t afford for them to make another mistake. The thought sent an evil shudder down his spine.
It took the War Cabinet fifteen minutes to make its vote. The unanimous decision was to allow the navy to arm all its starships with quantumbuster weapons in readiness for any subsequent attack by the Prime aliens.
CHAPTER NINE
On the day two hundred years ago when CST’s exploratory division opened a wormhole above Illuminatus, the sight that materialized shocked the entire Operations Center into silence. They thought they had stumbled across the ultimate high-technology civilization, one that had urbanized every square kilometer of land. Directly beyond the wormhole opening, the planet hung in the black of space, darkside on. Every continent glowed a lambent aquamarine from shore to shore, shimmering softly in long undulations as thin clouds wafted overhead. Only mountains and the polar caps were devoid of light.
The Operations Director extended a communications dish through the wormhole, and attempted to signal the occupants of the planetary city. Strangely, the electromagnetic bands remained silent apart from the warbled harmonies of the ionosphere as it was showered by solar wind. Then the full sensor returns began to build up, providing a provisional analysis. The light didn’t have a technological origin. It was purely biological.
Every time Adam Elvin visited Illuminatus he forgot to pack any decent short-sleeved linen shirts. It was his old city-boy mentality; he just never expected a climate quite so humid in an urban area. Nobody built cities in the middle of a jungle. It wasn’t civilized. Nor was it commercially viable, either. Except here.
Stepping out of the Hotel Conomela’s air-conditioned lobby was yet another unpleasant reminder of his bad choice of luggage. The heat and humidity on the street was already up to sauna levels, and that was with the hotel’s bright scarlet half-moon canopy overhead protecting him from direct sunlight. The semiorganic fiber of Adam’s white suit acquired a silver hue as it struggled to repel heat away from his body. He fanned at his face with his genuine Panama hat. A uniformed doorman gestured to a maroon Lincoln taxi that glided to a halt and popped its door. “Señor Duanro.” His white gloved hand touched the tip of his cap respectfully.
“Thanks.” Adam hurried into the cool dry interior, for once not pausing to consider, all men being equal, the market-enforced indignity of the doorman having to be servile. Today, anyone whose job it was to hasten him into cool comfort was okay by him.
He gave the drive array his destination, and the Lincoln pulled out aggressively into the flow of traffic. The street was jammed full of vehicles, half of them delivery vans and trucks parked on the curb so that angry cars, bikes, and buses were squeezed out into the few remaining lanes. His taxi rolled along at thirty kilometers an hour, its horn tooting about every thirty seconds as pedestrians, powerskaters, and cyclists dodged around it. It was always the same in Tridelta City; twenty-four million people crammed onto a patch of ground barely fifty kilometers across generated a serious amount of traffic pressure.