Meanwhile they had planes patrolling the skies, but suddenly had very little information regarding air traffic–the station supplied most of that kind of information. And that provided a major screen for anybody doing anything.
She made a try at contacting Alpha Station, ordinarily a matter of picking up the phone. It took a considerable wait, on a line that should have gone straight through to Station Admin.
It still did, finally, at least as far as a live Assistant Stationmaster. “This is Ariane Emory, at Reseune. We’re not receiving air traffic information. For all we know nobody in the world is receiving information. We have a rogue Fleet officer in Planys, possibly with missiles under his direction, aimed at the population of Novgorod. Are you willing to take the responsibility when this situation goes to the national court with criminal charges, ser?”
“ Let me get the Stationmaster,” the reply came back, and five minutes more of waiting and she had the Alpha Stationmaster. Emil Erikssen was his name, and she effectively repeated what she had just said to the Assistant Stationmaster, including the bit about personal responsibility and criminal charges. “We have no way of sounding an alarm if we get another missile fired at us. We hada missile land within 800 meters of our hospital and 15 meters off a public thoroughfare, ser. Whatever’s going on up there, the ordinary citizens of this planet and the Council rely on youfor services that mean life and death. Don’t give us promises.”
“We are supporting the atmospherics systems and the power grid,”the answer came back. “Fleet assets have just been destroyed or compromised. We are not providing general positional information to enable counterattacks until we have contact with Council.”
“We appreciate your position, but if you want the Council, ser, you just stay connected.” She punched buttons on her pocket com, and rang Ludmilla deFranco. “Sera. I have the Alpha Stationmaster. He needs a Council resolution before he’ll provide the global net.”
“Let me talk to him,”deFranco said, and she punched more buttons, and got four more Councillors. “We are sitting in shelters here,”deFranco said in some heat, “having already had one missile fired at us by a fool, and if you want a directive, ser, you’ll have it.”
“This is Harad, of State,”Councillor Harad broke in. “The directive already exists, Alpha Station, in our recent instruction to General Awei to defend the Council. Facimile transmission follows. We direct you turn on current global positional and traffic data. We’ll get you a specific directive on both orders inside five minutes if you have any doubt.”
There was a lengthy delay on the other side.
Catlin came to her desk, leaned over, com pressed firmly into her ear, and said, “Geosats are transmitting again.”
They had eyes.
That had gone all right, hadn’t it? Pity they couldn’t have been selective–but the system wasn’t set up that way Alpha could shut down satellites from transmission. But once they did transmit–anybody could use the information.
And about forty seconds later, the airport called Reseune Admin, “ We have regained image.” Likewise at the port.
The outage had lasted about thirty minutes, from the initial action at Svetlansk to the restoration of geosat transmission.
Fleet property had gotten damaged at Svetlansk, no word about personnel. They’d howled in indignation, more than likely.
So had the planet immediately involved…howled, now, and there’d be some consideration of the measures Alpha Station had taken, if she had anything to say about it. There hadn’tbeen civilian planes in the air when ATC’s long vision went out, but there could have been. There hadn’t, however, been guidance for more missiles for a bit, either. So it was a toss‑up. She couldn’t say the Alpha Stationmaster had been wrong; and he couldn’t be in a comfortable position, watching his government come apart, down on the planet, and two halves of Defense starting shooting at each other. They’d gotten into it step by step; for Alpha Station, there’d been a succession of small startling shocks, mostly in the last week.
So Alpha Station had wanted it stopped. She could understand that. Maybe Khalid would be beseiging his own sources up on station, urging Fleet authorities up then to shut the geosats down again to protect his operations at Planys. And maybe Fleet would start agitating on his behalf, or even issuing threats, but Alpha was a power, too, a de facto sovereign state like Reseune Territories, and Khalid couldn’t trump a Council directive.
Hadhim, she did.
She shoved back from the console in the Admin storm tunnels, and spun about to find Florian in the doorway, Florian with a decided grin on his face.
“Yanni,” Florian said, “and Councillor Corain, Amy, and Frank, and Quentin AQ. They’re down at the port.”
Her heart leapt up. “In Novgorod?”
“No, sera. At ourport, the riverside. Rafael’s sending a bus.”
“Are we sure?” she asked.
“Yes, sera!”
She spun the chair about again, and this time punched in every Councillor they had resident. They were immediate on the answer, Harad, deFranco, Chavez, Tien, and, last, Harogo. She said, “Yanni and Mikhael Corain have just arrived at the port. Would you like to meet them in Admin?”
“Finally!”Harad said, and Chavez: “About damned time.”
BOOK THREE Section 6 Chapter viii
SEPT 8, 2424
1621H
Directive control stayed in Ari’s pocket–literally–via her com, which she kept on, with Admin connected, continually. Florian and Catlin were linked into Rafael’s operation, specifically to senior ReseuneSec officers; and to Wes and Marco, who were doing the same, out of Alpha Wing Ops; she was linked to Admin, namely Chloe, and the department heads, who’d gotten the heads‑up from Chloe via Yanni’s office. “Call Councillor Corain’s family,” she told Chloe, afterthought, but one she didn’t want to omit. “Tell them Corain is coming in, but tell them stay to the tunnels.”
Immediately after, she headed upstairs and down the long lower hall in Admin, in close company with Florian and Catlin and two of the regular ReseuneSec personnel.
The Councillors, starting from storm tunnels in Wing One and Ed, reported themselves headed over via the cross tunnels, with their aides–they might come upstairs, if they insisted. Nobody was going to argue protocols with Harad or deFranco, or even Corain’s wife. All Ari’s attention was focused on having Yanni and Corain and Amy across that open space and down in the tunnels as fast as they could get them there, and she listened to the infrequent information from Admin, hoping not to hear warnings, hoping the moderate communications traffic hadn’t helped the opposition.
The bus at least was wasting no time…two buses, it became evident as she reached the locked doors–one bus veering off to Ed, one coming up toward them. “One is a decoy,” Florian said, and Catlin meanwhile called Rafael, signaling the physical lock to be taken off the Admin front doors and left off until she sent word they had the party inside.
Florian swung a door open. The bus came up under the portico, squealed to a hard stop, and its door flew open. Quentin exited instantly and held up his hands for Amy, who flung herself off the bus. Frank came next, with the briefcase, and held out a hand to steady Yanni coming down: and the third and last CIT was Mikhail Corain, looking to be on his last legs–all of them freshly scrubbed, wearing work blues, still damp from decon and reeking of potent disinfectant.
“Inside,” Florian said. “Inside, quickly, ser.”
“Amy, Yanni,” Ari said, and embraced Amy with one arm and Yanni with the other. “Where have you been?”
“In a shipping container,” Yanni said. “Hard on old bones, I’ll tell you.”
“You took a barge all the way up?”