The waste would be no boon to those. Those who retreated here would have to hide far deeper than this station lay. They would have to stay on the move amidst chaotic matter. Operations outside would require long voyages to the tag ends, starspace voyages measured in decades.
Did the Outsider humans understand that their masters were going to abandon them?
The existence of this place, and the planning behind it, said many things. One was that Turtle was caught in the jaws of another moral quandary.
To engineer the destruction of Starbase in a manner that insured that Canon had to change radically to survive was not the same as destroying it to guarantee the survival of a repugnant and predatory creed.
He glanced at the Valerena, at Blessed, at the Proviks, as though for inspiration—and found it. In what they were. In what they represented. One of Canon's great pestilences could become a blessing, through their greed.
There was unimaginable wealth in this waste space. Let the Houses battle the darkness for it.
"This may be our home for a long time," he said. "Let's hope it's not our last."
The Outsiders had an agenda more brisk than Turtle's. They barely gave him a chance to find his quarters before they put him to work.
The heart of the station was a major military headquarters. They presented it to him in its entirety. All its resources and personnel were assigned to his project. He was shown how things worked, given a team of translators, and was told to get busy.
They gave him access to everything worth knowing about their military and industrial capacity. They gave him technicians who could communicate with any Godspeaker anywhere on the Web, through Godspeakers here. He could check every fighting unit and what it faced. He could take charge if the whim hit.
His employers were determined to let him do his job.
It was a general's dream.
He had been created an all-powerful warlord, but even he could not believe this.
Turtle spent most of his time in that command center, learning, putting together what needed putting together, running models, reaching across the light years to experiment, even interfering where interference would save lives and forces or would avoid stupidities that offended him professionally. And all the while his employers studied him, feeling for the truths within.
The methane breathers watched every breath he took, humping and slithering through transparent pressurized tubes that meandered throughout the station.
Sometimes he could not resist temptation, used his power to twist Guardship noses. It was a trying year for the fleet.
Turtle found fewer and fewer occasions to consult his conscience. He had become too caught up doing what he had been designed to do.
The Outsiders even presented him with a command ship, of a type as yet uncommitted to combat, unsubtly named Delicate Harmony. It came complete with quarters for six Godspeakers, his long-range communicators. And keepers.
— 116 —
WarAvocat quietly attended the business of a ruthless, efficient, merciless conquest. Deified criticism faded.
He shared his thoughts with no one but Aleas. Aleas did not criticize when she disagreed. She argued, but did not carp or collude or try to rally the opinions of others, as the Deified had become accustomed to do since Makarska Vis introduced the spirit of divisiveness.
He had thoughts he reserved from his best friend. Perhaps Gemina knew them. Gemina knew so much. But Gemina did not betray him.
Long months after VII Gemina crossed the Rim, during a quiet interval, he tested the waters. "Something dramatic has happened on the other side, Aleas. Have you noticed?"
"They're getting harder to find and it's harder to get them to stand still when we find them. And they're more clever than they were."
"Uhm?"
"Maybe they're adopting some of our tactics?"
He slipped a sheet of hard copy out of a stack. "Read this."
Three Guardship assault, Objective Sixty-Nine, sector capital, four orbital fortresses. Point Guardship, magnum launch, object, forcing fortresses to raise screens. Enemy fighters launched. Standard. Nonstandard, attack upon fighters rather than Guardships.
Present insystem, twelve methane breather heavies, at distance, never before seen in concentration. Remained passive till time to recover and rearm fighters.
Warship fighters launched. Guardships forced to raise screens. Guardship secondaries decimated. Fortress-based and ship-based fighters alternate waves. Outsiders gain total secondary supremacy.
Point Guardship surprised at point of attack, Hellspinner funnel flooded with counterbarrage of self-shielded CT projectiles. Point Guardship disabled. Support Guardships destroy fortresses. Outsider secondaries destroy disabled Guardship. Support Guardships attempt close engagement with methane breathers, which remain at distance, employing secondaries.
WarAvocats consult, elect to return to Starbase. Methane breathers block path to Web strand, intentionally collide with one Guardship. Remaining Guardship retires at speed through starspace, catching strand after shaking pursuit.
This warning four months old.
Aleas read it twice. WarAvocat said, "That's not out of my fevered imagination. Gemina analyzed the action at Objectives Sixty through Seventy-Five. There's been a shakeup in the enemy high command. Chicken or egg, dramatically different goals have been adopted. They're preserving their best and maximizing our losses. To me that says they're preparing something they think will rock Canon and galvanize its enemies. They're getting ready to bet everything on one pass of the dice."
"I can't contradict you." Aleas was troubled. She looked at him oddly, decided to speak her mind. "You think the Ku is directing them."
"That's possible. It's also possible they've learned how to run a war."
She did not bite at the disclaimer. "And you're sure he'll take a shot at Starbase."
"That's a possibility, too. But not the only one. There's the operation he was planning when he got the rug yanked by the Ku Surrender."
"I'm no student of the times. Illuminate me."
"He was going to try Capitola Primagenia."
Aleas frowned.
"It's an easier target. Imagine the impact Outside. Imagine the civil chaos. He might prefer Starbase but he's a realist. He doesn't try to do something when he doesn't have the resources."
"You might suggest that an attack on Capitola Primagenia could be coming, but don't mention the Ku. Some of the Deified think you're as screwy about him as Makarska Vis."
WarAvocat snorted. When the hour came, he would bet his immortality on his intuition. He would use all his power to do what had to be done.
Meantime, there were worlds to conquer.
— 117 —
Lupo looked up as Two came in. "What did they think?" A fraction of the take from the Hemebuk Neutrality had arrived. T.W. and one of the Valerenas had introduced the Directors to the undistributed pile. Two had gone along disguised as one of T.W.'s assistants.
"They were impressed. T.W. told them there would be more. I didn't hear much grumbling about how we shut them out."
"Simpletons. As long as they can afford to indulge themselves, they don't care what we do. It was worth the investment for the little time we need."
Lupo Provik had embezzled the majority of the Outsider payoff. He'd already bought the shell and assets of a dying colonial corporation from artifacts who had hoped to establish their own closed society. He had gotten a bargain by agreeing to maintain their social goals.
Now he was shopping for independently held, financially troubled, potentially profitable star systems, preferably with the foundation infrastructures in place. Given those, he could put together a new House. With capital left over.