"I don't have access to VISAR's data right now. Impossible to say."
"Hundreds of feet? Thousands? A few miles, maybe?"
"Possibly… I think I see your reasoning."
"Not mine. Vic Hunt's."
"That figures."
Shilohin hesitated. Glancing at Garuth but still addressing ZORAC, she said, "Synchronization of the collapse would have to be external. It couldn't be coordinated within the convergence zone."
"I could create a direct switch from the lander into the control circuit to collapse the bubble," ZORAC replied. "But the ship's functional integrity might be compromised. It would require authorization by the Commander."
It took Garuth a few seconds to follow what they were talking about. But if they didn't try, Minerva would be at Broghuilo's mercy. The mission would have failed. If they tried and succeeded, and as a result the Shapieron became no longer functional, they would be unable to get home. But it was already looking very much as if they weren't going to be able to get home anyway. The alternative they stood to face was becoming part of a world dominated by Broghuilio. Garuth met Shilohin's eyes. Once again, he had to make an agonizing decision, but with no real choice.
"I authorize it," he confirmed.
"Reconfiguring generator net for maximum power," ZORAC responded. "Commencing bubble inflation now."
Broghuilio stood with his entourage on the Command Deck of the Shapieron and surveyed his new domain. In terms of style and engineering it was admittedly primitive in some ways, with its reliance on voice and screens-not even avco to afford permanent visual and audio sensory integration, let alone the full-neural capability of something like VISAR or JEVEX. But in a different way it had its own kind of splendor. Without direct neural interaction, and featuring less automatic system integration than Thurien designs, the older architecture used greater numbers of screens and operators, making the vista more grand and imposing. The supervisory dais with its positions for commander, deputy, and engineering chief looked out at the main displays over the bays of operator stations and instrument panels in the grand manner of thrones. Very fitting. It would suit Broghuilio well. In his mind's eye he could already picture the extension that would be added for the targeting and fire-control sections when the armaments from his own ships were installed. The whole vessel had obviously been refitted recently throughout, and he had established from its controlling AI that the power generation and drive systems were fully refurbished and charged. He would be unchallengeable effectively indefinitely in this. Even in its former condition, the ship had been good for over twenty years-and at the end of that, still up to attempting a voyage from Sol to Gistar. Yes, Broghuilio decided, this would suit him very well indeed.
"You see," he said, turning to Estordu and the others. "We have been here for a time measured only in days, and we are established. Our situation has already improved dramatically from the poor relations that the Lambian prince would have us be. As a revolutionary, he is an amateur. Did not I, the true revolutionary, promise you that one day we would settle the reckoning for that insult? It seems the day may come sooner than I anticipated."
"His Excellency spoke truly," one of the party said.
"Luring the Shapieron here to be dealt with away from the Thuriens was an act of brilliance!" another effused. "The mark of a true genius."
Even Broghuilio blinked at that one. It hadn't quite been that way. But it was fine by him, if that was what they wanted to believe.
The captain of Broghuilio's flagship, who had also come aboard for the tour, looked up from speaking via compad with his second-in-command. "We are still receiving requests from General Wylott and from the Lambians to reconnect, Excellency," he advised.
"We will talk to Minerva when we have completed our inspection," Broghuilio replied. Nobody was going to be telling him what to do very soon now, and for a long time to come. They might as well get used to it.
"The Shapieron would give us a fast and regular connection to Earth," Estordu remarked. "A warmer climate; richer and more diverse habitats. Suitable for the exclusive refuge of a ruling elite, perhaps? Surroundings conducive to an appropriate lifestyle. A small population of serving classes…"
Broghuilio looked at him in surprise. Even the scientist was thinking positively for once. "A proposition with merit," he pronounced. "We will give it full consideration in due course."
Broghuilio strode forward to stand in the aisle of primary control stations immediately below the supervisory dais. "ZORAC." He was getting to know the system better by now.
"Acknowledging."
Broghuilio hadn't quite summoned up the nerve to direct it to address him as Excellency yet. The loss of face if it were to find some grounds for refusing in front of his followers would be intolerable. He would tackle the matter when he was more sure of himself.
"Are the plans and blueprints of the ship available as I requested?"
"They can be viewed in the holo-display tanks of the Navigation section, forward to your right and up the blue steps."
Broghuilio moved along the aisle and stopped to survey his realm from this new perspective. "You know, ZORAC, you have no choice but to learn to get along. You have to cooperate while we hold your previous associates. And I have to preserve them as long as I need your cooperation. We both have the basis for a deal."
"I understand."
And, of course, there was always the possibility that in time it might come to evolve new loyalties. Broghuilio turned and climbed the steps up to the dais itself. From this elevation, the panorama looked even more spectacular. He imagined it all lit and alive, the stations manned, the panels and screens active. And his to command.
"Bring up the main displays," he ordered. "I want outside views all around the ship."
One by one the large screens facing the dais came to life to show the five Jevlenese vessels against a slowly moving carpet of stars. The brilliant cloud-streaked disk of Minerva stood in the background on one, and a part of the Moon off on an edge in another. A holo image below and in front of the dais showed a three-dimensional representation of the Shapieron with the screens indicated around it in their correct orientations and directions.
In the center behind Broghuilio, the commander's chair and console faced out over it all. Broghuilio turned and regarded it. He straightened his shoulders, puffed up his chest, and approached his future seat slowly, almost with reverence. This was a solemn and symbolic moment. His followers watched silently from below.
And then Broghuilio stopped abruptly.
Another Broghuilio had appeared out of nowhere, already sitting in the Commander's chair. The expression of rapture that had been on his face lasted for an instant, then switched to one as bewildered as that on the face of the Broghuilio who was standing stupefied, gaping at him. The Broghuilio sitting recovered first. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
"I could ask you the same thing," Broghuilio standing shot back. The questions were reflex. It was obvious to both who the other was. What was far from obvious was a sensible question to try and make sense of it.
"What are you doing dressed like that, in my ship?"
"Your ship? What do you mean? This is-" Broghuilio standing faltered as Broghilio sitting vanished in front of his eyes.
"Who the hell are you?"
He turned dazedly. Another Broghuilio was halfway up the steps to the dais. At the same time, consternation was breaking out among the rest of the group below as two Estordu's recoiled from each other as if they had like charges, while the flagship captain disappeared from one place to reappear in another. The whole area below the dais dissolved into a mйlange of figures popping in and out of existence randomly. On one of the screens, the image of a Jevlenese ship disappeared, leaving just an empty starfield.