“A hundred each. We’re receiving all the major subcomponents already integrated; with the exception of the hull and the life-support systems, most of it is standard commercially available hardware. The assembly bays just plug all the pieces together. There’s a lot of development gone into this. It would have taken a long time, even with advanced design software. I think he’s been planning this since before the invasion.”
“A hundred per compartment?” she mused. “That’s a big ship.”
“Very. Factory eight is churning out six completed compartments a week. Some of the other factories are just packaging industrial cybernetics for long-term storage. You’ve seen how many trucks are using the highway; they’re shipping all the completed compartments out somewhere.”
“Six a week, in one factory? That’s…” She half closed her eyes as she did some multiplication. “Jesus damn! How big are these ships? He must be planning on taking a whole planet with him.”
“If you’re intending to establish a high-technology civilization from scratch, you need a lot of equipment, and a decent population base.”
She put her arms around him. “Do we get to go, too?”
“I don’t know.”
“We need to find out, baby. We really do.”
“Hey, come on; this is just a rich man’s paranoia. The Commonwealth’s a long way from falling to the Primes.” Mark stroked her back, moving gently down her spine the way she liked.
“Then we should get paranoid, too. If we do lose, what would happen to Sandy and Barry? We’ve seen the Primes firsthand, Mark. They don’t give a fuck for humans; we’re lower than pond scum to them.”
“All right, I’ll ask around. Someone at the factory should know. Hey, did I tell you, old Burcombe is one of the managers. He’ll probably tell me.”
“Thanks, baby, I know I’m a pain to live with sometimes.”
“Never.” He held her closer. “I don’t know where they’re putting these ships together. It has to be in orbit, but I’ve not seen anything here. Not that I’ve really looked, but anything that large would show up like a small moon.”
“It could be anywhere within a hundred light-years. Hell, that asteroid of Ozzie’s was a perfect place to use as a shipyard, ultra top secret and habitable. You could house a cityful of people in there and barely notice them.”
***
The cloud had thickened up in the Regents, bringing with it a cloying sleet riddled with slender hailstones. Morton could hear them striking his armor suit, a constant tattoo of crackling to complement his feet as they squelched through tacky slush.
It was slow going back up the mountain to the saddle. The human survivors from Randtown were all riding in the bubbles, which could tackle the terrain easily, while the remaining members of Cat’s Claws simply walked up in their armor. That left the alien who claimed to be Dudley Bose. It didn’t have any kind of clothing to protect its pale skin. Bose said its body would work in the cold, but with difficulty. So they had to drape it in blankets and scraps of cloth, then hang sheets of plastic on top to protect it from the worst of the weather. Even so, the creature couldn’t move fast up the muddy slope.
It took most of the night just to reach the cloud level, and that was taking a direct route up from the cave. After that they had to follow the contour line along to the saddle where their equipment was stored.
They detected flyers patrolling the lake below, but none ventured close to the mountains and their treacherous downdrafts and microswirls.
When they finally reached the saddle, they took refuge in one of the deep crevices.
Rob opened some of the packs Parker and the Doc had brought with them. “Try these on,” he told the three standing refugees, handing around clothes. “A lot of it is semiorganic, it’ll shape itself to you.”
“Thank you,” Simon said gravely. “I am sorry we never got to know your friends.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Rob turned away and knelt down beside David Dunbavand. The man had improved considerably during the bubble ride: some color had returned to his skin, and his feverish sweating had subsided. “How’re you doing?”
“Okay. The drive up was kind of interesting, the bits I remember, anyway. Those biovirals: it’s like drinking a gallon of champagne cocktails.”
“Your leg’s stabilizing,” Rob said as he ran the diagnostic array up and down the man. “Looking good.”
“Thanks.”
“How about you?” Morton asked the Bose motile.
“This body is sluggish but functional. Prime motiles suffer some degradation in the cold, but they are more resistant than humans.” The polythene and blanket swaddling was covered in a thin layer of muddy slush. It was unwinding them one at a time, dropping them on the rocky floor. The array it was using to speak through was held in the pincers of one arm. “May I eat, please?”
“Sure.” All three of Cat’s Claws had carried plastic pouches full of lake water up the mountain. Bose said it was thick with base cells, the main food of the aliens. There were also containers full of cakelike vegetation, resembling shredded seaweed. It had built up quite a little stash in the ruined house in anticipation of repatriation.
They had all listened to Bose’s story on the climb. How he and Verbeke had been captured in the Watchtower; their imprisonment and death, the download of his personal store into an immotile unit. He provided a fascinating insight into the nature of the threat the Commonwealth was facing—one that Morton and the others found uniquely disturbing. They were being invaded purely with genocide in mind. That MorningLightMountain was psychologically unable to grasp the concept of compromise, let alone sharing a universe with any other life-form. Maybe Doc Roberts and Parker had the right of it, Morton thought. This is a fight to the death.
“Shouldn’t be long till we get you back to a hospital now,” Rob told David. “The navy will be opening a wormhole right away when they find out we’ve got Bose with us.”
Morton faced them all. “I’m not sure we should tell the navy,” he said.
The Cat laughed with delight.
“You’re kidding, right?” Rob said.
“No.”
“Okay, so you want to tell us why not?”
“Mellanie said the navy can’t be trusted. Apparently there’s some big political struggle going on in the Senate with the Dynasties and Grand Families.”
“What total bullshit,” Rob said.
“Are you talking about Mellanie Rescorai?” Simon asked. “The reporter?”
Mandy let out a snort of disbelief. “Her!”
“Yes,” Morton said.
“How is not telling the navy going to help the Commonwealth?” Simon asked.
“I’m not saying we don’t ever tell them,” Morton said. “I just want to know what the implications are before we do.”
“How do you propose finding out, exactly?” Rob asked. There was a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Mellanie arranged for encoded messages to be included in the recordings I send to the Michelangelo show. She’ll be able to tell us if it’s safe.”
“Safe!” Rob grunted. “Man, you are paranoid!”
“Look, one day isn’t going to make any difference,” Morton said reasonably. “We’re perfectly safe here. We have to wait until the Randtown force field is expanded anyway. So just humor me.”
“Shit!” Rob gave the Cat an angry stare. “What do you say?”
“Me? I think it’s hilarious, darling. Do it, Morty, screw the navy over. Gets my vote.”
“For what it’s worth,” Simon said, “I trust Mellanie.”
“How can you?” Mandy demanded. “The little bitch was wrecking our town and everything we stood for, your ideals. The whole Commonwealth hated us because of her.”
“She saved us, though, didn’t she?” Simon said gently. “Surely that is penance enough?”
“Something happened here,” the Bose motile said. Everybody turned to look at it. “This is where MorningLightMountain came up against the SI, the only time they clashed during the whole invasion. That is why I chose Randtown as my return point to the Commonwealth; the SI has some kind of presence here.”