King grunted. “Taking no chances, are you?”
“Would you?”
“Well, I’m impressed,” Penny said.
“Thank you, Colonel Kalinski.”
They had been walking more and more quickly, driven by the sense of urgency that emanated from Earthshine. Jiang was getting breathless. Penny went to take his arm, but he shook his head.
Earthshine cut to the left, and they followed him into a side chamber. Though a mere offshoot of the main tunnel, this was a big space itself, with walls of brick, heavily painted a faded yellow colour. There was a scattering of chairs, tables, slates, doors that led through partition walls to what looked like bedrooms. Maybe this had once been an equipment store, Penny thought, a control room, or a fire-control position.
But today the room was dominated by tremendous screens, plastered over each wall and free-standing on the floor, screens filled with images beamed from space, trajectory graphs, talking heads on conventional news channels. There were no staff here, no interpreters, no analysts. Just the screens, bringing a flood of data into this place.
The group spread out, the security guys pulling up chairs to sit against one wall. Jiang sat too, heavily, with a sigh of relief. A servo-robot, a squat cylinder like a dustbin, rolled towards them bearing a tray of coffees, glasses of wine, water, orange juice. Earthshine reached down and took a coffee, evidently a virtual placed among the real versions, an impressive bit of realisation in Penny’s eyes.
Earthshine said, “All this data flows through me, gathered from every source to which I and my siblings have access. Call it nostalgia. I feel that today, of all days, I want to experience what is to come as human, through human eyes, at a human pace, as far as possible.”
Penny nodded. “But a human with a very large disposable budget for TV screens.”
“There is that.”
King was still standing, leaning on his stick under one of the larger screens. “Look at that. Jesus.”
It was an image taken from some spaceborne telescope, Penny saw. She recognised the curve of the Earth, just a sliver of it, in the corner; the stars were washed out by the brightness. But there was the Splinter, brilliantly sunlit, and sparkling—no, she saw as the imager zoomed in, the rock was breaking up.
“Calving,” Jiang Youwei said.
King turned on him. “All part of your master plan, is it?”
“I am privy to no plan.”
“I told you there had been developments,” Earthshine said. “It only just started. And it’s certainly deliberate. Some of the ground-based ’scopes have been observing explosions, detonations in the structure of the asteroid. A couple of fragments have been slung away, but the rest, as a swarm now, are still heading for Earth. You don’t get a sense of scale from these images. The object, or the swarm, is still heading for Earth at interplanetary speeds. It is still far away, but—”
“Closing all the time,” King said.
“Yes. The old estimates of close-encounter time are defunct, by the way. Given the scatter of the object—well, the encounter has already begun. There is news from other theatres,” Earthshine said now.
King turned on him. “Theatres? What kind of a word is that?”
“Is it not appropriate? Is this not a war?”
“Just tell us,” Penny said.
Earthshine pointed to various displays. “At the asteroids, and over Mars, UN hulk ships have appeared.”
“Appeared?” King snapped, again showing his tension. “What do you mean, appeared?”
“They seem to have been hidden until now by some kind of stealth technology.”
“It’s hard to imagine how a kernel-physics drive in operation could be cloaked,” Penny said. “They must have been in place for a while.”
“This is the UN response to the Sliver,” said King. “Or part of it. All part of the game. The targets are obvious, I guess, and symbolic: the Halls of Ceres, the Obelisk on Mars.”
“But this is all just sabre-rattling, right?” Penny said. “Nobody’s fighting yet. Nobody’s dying.”
“Not quite true,” Jiang said, and he pointed to an image of a riot somewhere on Earth, a crowd running at a line of tanks.
Earthshine said, “The war in heaven is already starting to cast shadows on Earth. There are reports of clashes at Chinese borders with UN nations. In Siberia, for instance. And in Australia, there is a rebellion going on in Melbourne against Chinese rule. The Splinter has not been wielded in their name, they protest.”
“Too right,” Sir Michael King said, his own Australian accent thickening. “Let’s kick those Red Chinese back into the sea…”
At least he had his home to think of, Penny reflected. She herself was rootless; she had no home worth recollecting. Only Stef.
And she wondered where her twin was, right now. It was an eerie thought that whatever happened today, it would take Stef four years to learn about it. She’d had only one message from Stef, in fact, since she’d gone through the Hatch on Mercury, a simple confirmation that she and Yuri Eden had survived the passage. Penny had made screen-grabs from the message, scratchy, frozen images of Stef’s face. The face of a woman who had just survived an experience she could barely describe, let alone understand. And there she was on a whole new world, a world awaiting her discovery.
Did Penny envy her? Maybe. But mostly, like right now, she wanted her sister back. Not just physically, not just from across this thick barrier of spacetime that separated them. Back the way it had been before the two of them (as she recalled it) had opened that damn Hatch on Mercury. And –
“This is it,” called King.
Chapter 73
Stef Kalinski had been able to acquire maps of the dark side of Per Ardua from the ISF authorities at the Hub base. She spread them out on the floor of the garage Yuri had built to house the ColU, outside his villa on the outskirts of the UN enclave, so all four members of the expedition could see them: Stef herself, Yuri, Liu Tao and the ColU. Yuri had never known such maps even existed; he’d always assumed the dark side was just a blank mystery.
These sketchy plans had been produced from the only full orbital survey that had ever been conducted of Per Ardua, or at least the first that had ever been reported back, by the Ad Astra in her first few loops around the planet on arrival. There were lots of gaps, blank spaces: the dark side’s deep planetary shadow had been relieved only by the brilliant point light cast by Alphas A and B, and the ship’s orbit had been so low that much of the surface had never been seen at all. What had been seen had never been surveyed properly, for instance with radar-reflection or spectroscopic gear, and in the years since there had been no resources to send up satellites of any kind to finish the job.
“So the maps are guesswork,” Yuri said. “This really is a journey into the dark.”
“We need to plot a route to the antistellar,” Stef said, shrugging. “This is the best we have. I figure this way.” She tapped her slate and the mapping imagery switched to a Mercator projection. “We need to traverse half a circumference of the planet, obviously, from substellar to antistellar. In principle we could head off in any direction, and just follow a great circle around the planet. But in some directions the topography is more helpful than otherwise. I suggest going this way—south-east. That keeps us well away from the big new volcanic province in the north, and there’s land, more or less, all the way to the terminator. Some other directions you get the dark side ocean cutting in, such as to the west.”