I had him in my sights all the while. He seemed to make no attempt to avoid getting shot, but I couldn't do it. I flicked my finger away from the trigger as with both hands he grabbed me by the loose material across my chest, hoisted me off the floor then propelled me backwards and slammed me against the mirror. I felt ribs crack and something again began bubbling in my lungs. The gun barrel was pressed right up against his guts, and I knew that in a second I could blow them and part of his spine out of his back.
"It touched her! It touched her!" he shrieked in my face. Then his expression changed, looking lost. "I have to stop you."
He let me slide down until my feet rested on the floor, then drew his fist back to deliver a blow I knew would cave in my face. With my former Old Captain strength I could have pulled his head off; as weak as I was now, only a few options remained to me. Despite the Sudorian differences, he was still human, so possessed a human physiology. I brought my knee up hard.
Gneiss made a sound like loose cloth getting sucked through a small hole into vacuum. He released me, staggered back, and cupped his testicles protectively. I brought the gun butt down on the back of his head, and he collapsed. I just stood there gasping for breath. Then I started coughing up bloody phlegm. I really just wanted to slide down to the floor, and wait for everything to go away. No, not yet. I understood his dilemma, understood what he had been telling me. I reached down and took hold of his wrist in both hands and with a struggle that almost had me crying in frustration, dragged him closer to the mirror, and propped him up next to it. Then I pulled his right hand up high enough to place it against that polished snake's head in the mirror frame.
The mirror instantly revolved into the wall, revealing a small lift beyond. I stepped inside and it immediately revolved closed again. Then it took me down.
19
Those we left behind have rediscovered us. Our ancestors left the Solar System, in the midst of savage corporate wars, in the hope of starting something new, something worthy. Looking back upon our history here, can we honestly say we have since transcended our bloody past on Earth and within the Solar System? Humans can now change themselves physically in ways that utterly outpace the slow meander of evolution, and it seems, from what we have heard about this Polity, that human science has produced powerful artificial intelligences that put the organic fat in our skulls to shame. Yet what about morality? Does that, too, evolve or does it remain a construct relevant only to our hunter-gatherer past? Does it now have any relevance in the modern human universe at all? I wonder if our distant kin from the Polity know. I wonder if they are 'better' than us.
— Uskaron
Harald
Firing from the Defence Platforms and from the Corisanthe stations was becoming intermittent as the hilldiggers held their positions, themselves using defensive fire only. Harald guessed that the members of the Oversight Committee were beginning to realise that they now might not win this, but any satisfaction he might otherwise have felt was muted by the ache in his head. He began checking logistics and tactical assessments. If they continued to engage in a straight shooting war with conventional weapons, Fleet would likely run out of supplies and need to withdraw. Harald, of course, had no intention of withdrawing.
Turning his attention to another view provided by a couple of Fleet spy cameras, Harald observed the Combine passenger liner was now well out from Corisanthe II and apparently moving to intercept Tlaster Cobe's Stormfollower, which at present appeared not to be moving despite the glow from its steering thrusters, but would eventually enter atmosphere. The liner, though a civilian vessel, was accelerating much faster than could Fleet vessels of comparable size. Harald decided there and then that once he had seized control of all of Combine's resources, he would have Fleet engineers take a close look at those engines. But what to do now, for the liner would reach Stormfollower within the next half-hour. He considered having Harvester and Musket launch a missile strike against the liner, then suddenly felt bewildered.
Why do that? Why destroy that liner; why send Tlaster Cobe and his entire crew to their deaths; why waste a hilldigger by smashing it into Sudoria? Nausea assailed him. He bit down on it and in that moment experienced a sudden reversal. He decided his previous decision about Cobe was a mistake he needed to correct, for the lives of Stormfollower's crew and maybe for his own sanity. And anyway he could afford to be magnanimous.
Now decided on what to do, Harald accessed Stormfollower's systems, but soon realised that stopping its descent would be no easy task. The necessary code seemed almost slippery and sometimes there were bits of it he just did not understand now. Eventually, however, he found what he wanted and sent his instructions. Views from a distance showed him a hundred or more steering thrusters on Stormfollower shutting down, then another hundred or more coming on. Using orbital mechanics programs, Harald made his calculations. Not enough. Despite the steering thrusters now fighting against it, Stormfollower was still on course to slam into Sudoria. No technology aboard the hilldigger itself could prevent that.
"Get me Director Gneiss," Harald ordered. "I think it's time for us to talk."
While he waited for the connection, he again assessed Stormfollower's chances. Combine's solution would be to dock with the huge vessel, offload its crew, and then run to the nearest available station. That strategy, rather than trying to pull the hilldigger out of its current descent, would get the passenger liner out of danger the quickest. But perhaps there was another option. Harald began to make further calculations factoring in the evident power of that liner's engines.
"Is Gneiss refusing com?" Harald enquired after a couple of minutes' silence.
"Admiral," replied the tacom, "it seems that Director Gneiss is currently unavailable, but there are other members of the Combine Oversight Committee who are prepared to talk with you."
"Who do you have?"
"Rishinda Gleer."
Harald grimaced, remembering the message she had sent to Fleet, which had resulted in him receiving a bullet in his head.
"I'll speak to her," he conceded.
After a moment, looking grave and tired she appeared on the screen before him. He smiled at her without much sincerity. "I will not bother to waste time with any of the civilities, since we have moved well beyond that now."
"Civilities are for the civilised," Gleer noted acidly.
"Whatever," said Harald. "You must order your forces to cease fire at once."
"And on what basis do you make this demand?"
"I suspect you already know, but I'll spell it out for you anyway. Fleet hilldiggers are currently occupying positions where you will be unable to use your gravity disruptors against them without causing serious damage, if not the complete destruction, to one or all of the Corisanthe stations. However, those same hilldiggers are now with impunity able to fire gravity disruptors at your stations."
"That, Harald, is not entirely true. We can still quite easily destroy Wildfire, Desert Wind and your own ship without substantial risk to Corisanthe stations II and III."
"Perhaps so," Harald admitted, "but none of your stations can fire on Harvester and Musket without risking such destruction, and should you open fire on us, they will proceed to destroy your two most highly populated stations."