Simply put, while they lack short-range firepower, they’re able to launch a swarm of interceptors that can pound on you from well outside your own engagement envelope. More to the point, they’re frighteningly good, and unless I’m very much mistaken, that carrier, on its own, outmasses your entire fleet. I wouldn’t want you to get the idea that I don’t rate you against the Septagon Navy, but if you’re planning on fighting them, do you think you could let me know in advance? I’d like a chance to grab a survival pod first.”
“Well, we can’t argue with the government of Earth’s defense estimates, can we, Commander?” Bauer nodded pointedly at his executive officer.
“Ah, no, sir. The Colonel is quite correct.” The young and somewhat flustered Lieutenant avoided looking at Rachel; it was a minor slight she was getting plenty of practice at ignoring.
“Damned newfangled inventions,” mumbled Kurtz under his breath. “Blasted many-angled ones don’t want us to succeed, anyway — per-per-perfidious technophiles!” Louder: “We must press on!”
“Absolutely.” Commodore Bauer nodded sagely. “If we press on to Point Two on schedule, leaving the diplomatic niceties to the embassy — speaking of which — Lieutenant Kossov. What of the update?
Where do we stand with respect to further information about this Festival, its order of battle and motives? What have we learned?”
“Ah.” Lieutenant Kossov, removed and polished his pince-nez nervously. “Well, there’s something of a problem. The deposition from the Admiralty doesn’t seem to have arrived. We were supposed to be seeing an ordnance beacon, but although we quartered the designated orbital path, there’s nothing there.
Either they’re late — or they never planted it.”
‘This orbital beacon.“ Rachel leaned forward. ”A standard target buoy, right? With a diplomatic package containing anything the Republic’s intelligence services have learned about the Festival in the five years since our jump?“
Kossov glanced warily at the Commodore, who nodded. “Yes, Colonel. What of it?”
“Well, if it isn’t there, that can imply three things, can’t it? Either it was there, but somebody else stole or disabled it. Or—”
“Perfidious Septagonians!” Robard hastily leaned over his charge, then looked up and shrugged, eloquently.
“Indeed, Admiral. Or, as I was saying, the second option is that it hasn’t been put there yet — some miscalculation, or they couldn’t determine any useful information about the enemy, or they forgot about us, or something.”
The noise of Kurtz’s snoring cut into her exposition. All eyes turned to the admiral; Robard straightened up. “I’m afraid the Admiral’s legs have been paining him considerably of late, and the dosage of his medication is not conducive to lucidity. He may sleep for some hours.”
“Well, then.” Bauer looked around the conference table. “I believe if you would be so good as to return His Excellency to his cabin, I will continue as his proxy and prepare a minuted report of this meeting for him to review later, when he’s feeling better. Unless anyone has any comments that specifically require the Admiral’s ear?” Nobody demurred. “Very well then. Recess for five minutes.” Robard and an enlisted man gingerly rolled the Admiral’s chair away from the table; then, using the lift just outside the room, disappeared with him in the direction of his quarters. Everybody stood, and saluted, while the snoring officer was wheeled out of the meeting. Rachel held her face expressionless, trying to conceal the disgust and pity the sight pulled from her. He’s young enough to be my grandson.
How can they do this to themselves?
Eventually, Bauer, assuming the admiral’s position at the head of the table, rapped his hand on the brass bell. “Meeting will resume. The Terran attache has the floor. You were saying?”
“The third possibility is that the New Republic no longer exists,” Rachel said bluntly. She continued, ignoring the outraged gasps around the table. “You are facing an enemy about whose capabilities you are largely ignorant. I’m afraid to say, the UN knows little more about them than you do. As I noted, there are three reasons for the New Republic not to have contacted you, and their total defeat in the intervening time is only one of them, but not one it’s safe to ignore. We’re now in the outbound leg of a closed, timelike loop, which will eventually clip itself out of the world line of this universe if you succeed in looping back into our relative past — but the New Republic’s absolute immediate future — and taking the intruders by surprise. This has some odd implications. History reaching us inside this loop may not bear any relationship to the eventual outcome we seek, for one thing. For another—” She shrugged. “If I’d been consulted prior to this expedition, I would have strongly counseled against it. While it is not technically a breach of the letter of Clause Nineteen, it is dangerously close to the sort of activity that has brought down intervention by the Eschaton in the past. The Eschaton really doesn’t like time travel in the slightest, presumably because, if things go too far, someone might edit it out of existence. So there’s the possibility that what you’re up against isn’t just the Festival, but a higher power.”
“Thank you, Colonel.” Bauer nodded politely, but his face was set in a mask of disapproval. “I believe that, for now, we shall disregard that possibility. If the Eschaton chooses to involve itself, there is nothing we can do in any case, so we must work on the assumption that it will not. And in that case, all we are up against is the Festival. Kossov. What did we know about it before we left?”
“Ah, um, well, that is to say—” Kossov looked around wildly, shuffled the papers on his blotter, and sighed. “Ah, good. Yes. The Festival—”
“I know what it’s called, Lieutenant,” the Commodore said reprovingly. “What is it and what does it want?”
“Nobody knows.” Kossov looked at his supreme commander’s deputy like a rabbit caught in the blinding headlights of an oncoming express train.
“So, Commissioner.” Bauer cocked his head on one side and stared at Rachel, with the single-minded analytical purpose of a raptor. “And what can the esteemed government-coordinating body of Earth tell me about the Festival?” he asked, almost tauntingly.
“Uh.” Rachel shook her head. Of course the poor kid had done his best — none of these people could know anything much about the Festival. Even she didn’t. It was a big yawning blank.
“Well?” Bauer prodded.
Rachel sighed. “This is very provisional; nobody from Earth has had any direct contact with the agency known as Festival until now, and our information is, therefore, secondhand and unverifiable. And, frankly, unbelievable. The Festival does not appear to be a government or agency thereof, as we understand the term. In fact, it may not even be human. All we know is that something of that name turns up in distant settled systems — never closer than a thousand light-years, before now — and it, well, the term we keep hearing used to describe what happens next is ‘Jubilee’, if that makes any sense to you. Everything …
stops. And the Festival takes over the day-today running of the system for the duration.” She looked at Bauer. “Is that what you wanted to know?”
Bauer shook his head, looking displeased. “No it wasn’t,” he said. “I was after capabilities.” Rachel shrugged. “We don’t know,” she said bluntly. “As I said, we’ve never seen it from close-up.” Bauer frowned. “Then this will be a first for you, won’t it? Which leads us to the next issue, updates to navigation plan Delta …”