“Large-scale events?” Marphissa questioned. “Do you mean earthquakes? Triggered by all of the impacts of enigma bombardment projectiles on that world?”
“No, Kommodor.” Some of the data reports glowed a little brighter. “These indicators show regular variations. That would mean they are artificial.”
“Artificial?” Marphissa felt a glow of hope. “Some of the people here survived the enigma attack by going deep? I didn’t think Syndicate shelters could have ridden out impacts of the size that struck that area.”
“No, Kommodor,” the specialist said. “They should not have. Any Syndicate shelters, even deep ones, should have been pulverized.”
“Then who is digging—” Diaz began irritably. He stopped speaking, his face going rigid. “Or should I be asking what is digging very deep on that planet?”
“We may be detecting enigma subsurface activity,” the specialist said in a rush. “A very large amount of subsurface activity.”
Marphissa exhaled slowly, feeling a coldness that was not born of any life support fluctuation. “Just as we feared. They’re establishing a base. In a place where we couldn’t see any trace of it, their work and any excavated materials hidden by the devastation where they tore that part of the planet to hell.”
“No surface facilities at all?” Diaz asked, bewildered.
“I told you. It’s consistent with what Black Jack’s fleet saw in enigma space. Captain Bradamont and I have talked about it,” Marphissa said. “She said the enigmas hide everything as much as they can from any possible observation.”
Diaz nodded, rubbing his chin as he gazed at the apparently innocuous data. “I once saw the Syndicate base at Kure. An entire moon hollowed out. If the enigmas want to construct a major base deep beneath the surface of that planet, and if they have automated construction capabilities anything like ours, they could do it. Any surface accesses, even ones big enough for a battleship, could be concealed.”
“And that fool Imallye is planning to set up shop here as well!” Marphissa said. “If they don’t check things out thoroughly, or if the enigmas have finished their major excavations by the time Imallye’s forces arrive, Imallye might be oblivious to the fact that she’s sharing this star system with an enigma force that could wipe out her base at any time with no warning!”
She spun to look at the specialist who had spoken up and was still watching Marphissa and Diaz to see how her report would be received. “Well done. Very well done. You spotted that subtle data and you interpreted it well. Kapitan Diaz, this specialist deserves a promotion.”
“I understand and will comply,” Diaz said, making the old, fearful Syndicate response sound like a pleasant tasking. “Can we bomb that enigma base out of existence?”
“We can’t, not with the bombardment projectiles that Manticore carries. They’re not big enough to get at something as deep as the enigmas apparently are. And I don’t want to tip off the enigmas that we’ve spotted their work by tossing some futile rocks their way. As for whether any of our mobile forces can do the trick, I don’t know. We might need a big asteroid to do enough damage, and that would require a while to divert and reach the planet. We will inform President Iceni. She will decide.”
Marphissa gazed at her display, morose. She perfectly understood the uncertainty of the specialist who had reported the indications of enigma activity on that planet. No one wanted to be the one to inform the boss of a problem. Sure, Marphissa had survived Imallye’s attack at Moorea, but she would be returning with news that the Syndicate presence at Iwa Star System had been wiped out by the enigmas, that Granaile Imallye had refused offers of cooperation, threatened Iceni herself, and attacked Manticore, and that the enigmas were busy constructing a major base at Iwa. If I was bringing this much and this kind of bad news back to a Syndicate superior, I’d be expecting to be sent to a labor camp for being the bearer of unwelcome information. President Iceni won’t do that. But I have let her down. Instead of returning with good news, I am going to be a herald of many dangers.
She was roused from feeling sorry for herself by an urgent tone that drew Marphissa’s attention back to her display. She stared at it in disbelief. “Is that a pickup signal?”
“Yes, Kommodor,” the senior specialist confirmed. “It is coming from the same planet on which the enigma construction is under way, not too many kilometers from the craters that mark the former site of the Syndicate city.”
“An enigma trick,” Diaz scoffed. “It must be.”
“Why would they be calling our attention to that planet?” Marphissa wondered. “How directional is that pickup signal?” she asked the comm specialist.
“It is aimed at us,” the specialist said. “They are highly directional signals.”
“How would someone on that planet, assuming they survived, know that we were out here?” Diaz demanded.
“Sir, if it is standard Syndicate ground forces armor, then it would automatically scan overhead for any visible activity. The visual sensors on ground armor would be capable of spotting the movement of this ship across the heavens when we drew close enough.”
“Could that armor identify us?” Marphissa asked.
“No, Kommodor. Not from that range. It would only know that we were an artificial object. A ship.”
She rubbed her chin and stared at her display, knowing that the next move was entirely up to her. A human might have survived on that planet and be signaling for help. Even if he or she or they had access to extra power supplies for their armor they must be near to exhausting those, and once their armor was out of power they would surely die on the surface of what had always been an inhospitable world. Their armor had seen a ship in space and, desperate, they had signaled for help, assuming or hoping that it was a human ship.
If she were still Syndicate, Marphissa knew exactly what would be expected of her. Do not risk the unit by heading into what might well be a trap. Do not risk the mission by risking loss of the ship. Whichever workers had survived on that planet were not worth diverting her ship’s track. Maybe they had important intelligence, but if so she could send a signal back ordering their battle armor to automatically upload all information their systems had accumulated. With that information in hand, she could proceed on her way without risking Manticore.
But she wasn’t Syndicate anymore, and never had been in her heart.
“What do you think?” she asked Diaz in a quiet voice.
Diaz inhaled deeply, blew out the breath, then answered in the same low tones. “Odds are it is a trap. No one has ever been recovered from a world occupied by the enigmas.”
“But the Syndicate could never mount recovery operations,” Marphissa said. “Eventually, any humans left on an enigma-occupied world would be run down and killed, but they could have remained hidden for a while. Planets look tiny from up here, but to someone on the surface a world is a very big place.”
“It would be dangerous to get close to that world,” Diaz pointed out. “We don’t know what sort of hidden defenses the enigmas might have already installed.”
“Shouldn’t we try to find out? That would be very important to know.”
“It would,” Diaz agreed. “But how do we lift anyone off the surface? We don’t have a shuttle. I can take Manticore into atmosphere, but there is no way of landing a heavy cruiser on a planet’s surface unless you crash it.”
Marphissa pondered that problem, feeling relieved that there seemed to be no way to save that person, but also feeling guilty to be relieved about it. “If there’s no means of—”